I If it all gets to be to much Just withdraw from this haze and learn to touch The corners and the borders of your world Observe the ripples and the curls And calculate the pain and reward Of shattering it all into oblivion So you may invent new lies to be burnt by others II Who are these people? These lost faces with ancient traces Mimicking ghosts We are all each other’s sons but we have no fathers This a feeding frenzy of the fucked over Feeding on the bloated corpse of god Nobody wins or loses And no one is at all satisfied We’re not curious anymore There’s only energy for one more push So the stone can roll over us We’re all German Jews In the concentration camp of our lives Arbeit Macht Frei? I’ve been hearing that one for a long time here in sunny suburbia I just want to go home III I’m in a hole deeper than my soul I’ve got eleven dollars in my pocket And an empty Altoids I’ve been carrying around for weeks I didn’t shower today I’ve got somewhere I’m supposed to be I’m supposed to be somebody else I’m a cynical old man in the body of a reckless and self destructive youth I am an American I’m declining I’m slipping down the slope I am in ruins Lizards surely will contemplate my demise My mind races My body chases We crash together Dead and all alone
