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How did Camus really die that night? |
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Were they right, when he died was it really his time? |
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Or was it suicide? |
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And Holden Caufield is a friend of mine, |
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We go drinking from time to time, |
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And I find it gets harder every time. |
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Back off! |
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But you're out on the street again. |
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Don't you stop! |
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Did you know you couldn't swim? |
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Back off! |
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Until you're on the street again. |
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I'm not gonna play if there ain't no way I'll win. |
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Well, Hemingway never seemed to mind the banalities of a normal life, |
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And I find it gets harder every time. |
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So he aimed a shotgun into the blue, |
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Placed his face between the two and sighed: "Here's to life!" |
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Back off! |
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But you're out on the street again. |
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Don't you stop! |
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Did you know you couldn't swim? |
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Back off! |
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Until you're on the street again. |
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I'm not gonna play if there ain't no way I'll win. |
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Hey there Salinger, what did you do |
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Just when the world was looking to you? |
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To write anything that meant anything, |
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You told us you were through. |
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And it's been years since you passed away |
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But I see no plaque and I see no grave, |
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And I can't help believing that you wanted it that way. |
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And Vincent Van Gogh, why do you weep? |
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You were on your way to heaven but the road was steep, |
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And who was there to break your fall? |
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We're guilty, one and all. |
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And I don't know much, but I do know this, |
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With a golden heart comes a rebel fist, |
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But I can't help agreeing with those that would not quit. |
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And it makes me sick when I think of it, |
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All my heroes could not live with this, |
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And I hope you rest in peace because with us you never did. |
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And KDC, you were much too young |
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And you changed my life, |
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But I draw the line at suicide, here's to life! |
