And Lord only knows, how I cannot sleep at nights,
Thinking about you, and everything that comes and goes,
Makes me feel old, battered from all the loss,
And thus I drink, and have three puffs of cigarettes,
And then curse all the thinkers, who have passed all through the ages,
Their wisdom and their thoughts, all imprisoning my thoughts,
With their liberties, come responsibilities I have not sought.
-I wish I can be a pigeon that can fly,
Wherever he wants to, and whenever he wants to fly,
But I am a tree, I am so stuck to the ground,
The wood is my blood, and to it am I bound,
And when the time comes, for a man to take me down,
I can't resist, I can't move, nor can I frown,
For I have no voices, to cry out that I'm alive,
And thus he'll cut me, as if I was never alive.
-And so I sing this song, a dirge about this life,
That this life is a lie, and we shall all leave it and die,
And when the time comes, from our graves we shall rise,
To face the Benevolent God, naked, helpless and dry.
No comments:
Post a Comment