Coffins dropping in the street like balloons made out of lead Picking at my finger nails, shuffling around
and wondering why wisdom is always so simple
and why we're all cast down to the ground
Like the money Jesus cleared from the temple

And all the gals I used to know are so wary
To them, secret admirers have all turned to stalking
Look somebody in the eye, and man, you're scary
Ain't seen ya before, so no, I'll keep walking

So I stand over the graves
of poor bastards I never knew
Think of all those older, simpler times...

When you could make a fire in the rain
When you could smoke inside a bar
When your picture stayed in her frame
When you went far away to war...


...(rest of song pending a good direction) Maybe I'll talk about history and how it never gets better or worse really. How yesterday is just as messed up as today. I dunno. If you don't like the pimple, well, why don't you shove off if it bothers you so much.

Currently listening to:

  ¶ 9:26 PM