37: KILL THE PAIN

                   

Atop a high bridge, a man stood sauced, considering all he'd lost.

 

Young men dying for the graveyard, in the name of the sword.

Old men crying for the last night, in the name of the Lord.

Young punks lying for a fist fight, taking care of a need.

Old girls wishing they were still tight, long since pasted the last seed.

 

I want to be on, the last train, that's never coming, back again.

It's going to be the best time, that I'll ever see,

Gonna open up a new mind, inside of me.

 

Picking all the flowers, in your back yard, picking them for hours

It's not that hard.

And neither is thinking, or going insane, or too much drinking,

To kill the pain.

 

Fools are trying for the big time, in the name of their ego.

Bums are throwing up on bad wine, unintentionally steal the

show.

All the continents are sinking, back into the deep blue sea.

Women doing too much thinking, crying about equality.

 

Picking all the flowers, in your back yard, picking them for hours

It's not that hard.

And neither is thinking, or going insane, or too much drinking,

To kill the pain.

 

I want to be on the last train, that's never coming, back again.

It's going to be the best time, that I'll ever see,

Gonna open up a new mind, inside of me.

 

And below, this bridge we're told, the water, runs deep and cold.