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