|
if I waste my life, can I have yours? |
|
I'll sweep the deck and mend the sores |
|
when the light goes out I'll lock the doors |
|
on my own |
|
was it sixty two or twenty five? |
|
when I lost the keys to my beehive |
|
and the last time I saw you alive |
|
was so long |
|
ago |
|
I can't quite recall the date |
|
light, turnin' around on me |
|
as far as my eyes can see |
|
all that's left to be is someone |
|
who can't quite try to leave |
|
or soak up what's left to breathe |
|
as far as my chest can heave |
|
as far as I know standing still here |
|
is all part of the weave |
|
so I've fallen onto my knees |
|
and begged for a life of ease |
|
all I want is a quiet death |
|
from a terminal disease |
|
as long as my brain will freeze |
|
and wake up beneath the trees |
|
and I can always count on something |
|
to drift in with the breeze |
|
one last atrophy, and I'm done, and I'm gone |
|
one last irony, and I'm done, and I'm gone |
|
one last symphony, and I'm done, and I'm gone |
|
one last sympathy, and I'm done, and I'm gone |
|
it was on TV and on the run |
|
then it settled softly on the sun |
|
but it wasn't fooling anyone |
|
so I said |
|
it's okay |
|
it was never meant to speak the truth |
