|
The old man lies prone |
|
All alone |
|
In bed |
|
Waiting to breathe his last breath |
|
He's made his peace |
|
Or so |
|
It seems |
|
His body began to protest |
|
One part chose not to depart this world |
|
YET |
|
Death in his sights |
|
Living for spite |
|
Poor magic bone |
|
Will go on and on |
|
His finger will not let him die |
|
Day after day |
|
Tapping away |
|
Skin like a burlap sack |
|
Hoping to fade to black |
|
Driven by an unworldly lust |
|
Magic bone feeds on his dust |
|
Replaying his life |
|
In his mind |
|
He tries to see how he made his knuckle crack |
|
No reason, no rhyme |
|
No deed |
|
No crime to warrant the finger's attack |
|
One part chose not to depart this world |
|
YET |
|
Death in his eyes |
|
Living for spite |
|
That magic bone won't let him go |
|
His finger will not let him die |
|
Lying in wait |
|
Robbed of his fate |
|
Stuck for eternity |
|
Pointing round aimlessly |
|
Wanting to be six feet deep |
|
The magic bone won't let him sleep |
|
Let him sleep x4 |
|
Frozen awake |
|
In time and space |
|
No-one can hear his appeal |
|
For when he attempts |
|
To speak |
|
His mind |
|
The finger presses up to his lips |
|
Year after year |
|
Can't disappear |
|
Impossibly bored |
|
Nail like a sword |
|
No chance of suicide |
|
Not while it lives inside |
|
Trying to fight the magic joint |
|
Knowing that there is no point |
|
Is no point is no point, is no point, is... |
