bright eyes
on my way to work
There is a car parked where the block begins And there are people singing praises Say, "It's all because of him" And there is a bird perched on a frayed, wet wire  And his voice sings out for a lover But it's covered by the choir of voices Reaching way beyond the rafters With devotion, they perform these sacred tasks  They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks Slight suffering is not too much to ask Besides, we all are making money And we are all fucking alone  And we don't know what we are doing Maybe just buying us some hope Because we know that we are lonely Yeah, lonely, that's for sure  And the older ones are coughing And the older ones are dying Maybe we are all dying I pass a graveyard on my way to work  Today I saw two dozen white roses On a fresh new mound of dirt And I wondered about the occupant When the darkness finally swallowed him  Was he calm and content? Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed Crying out loud for someone to help him  And collapsing on his back, all pale and dead? Maybe it's me who's this unstable Always obsessed about the end Why can't I let what happens happen?  And just enjoy the time I spend Oh, how I wish it was so easy But when there is no point to anything It can get a bit confusing  Why is that I keep going? Why is that we keep going?