Lyrics

I woke up this morning
on the wrong side of a gun,
with no money in my pockets
and no place left to run.

I was born to lead a life
of noisy desperation,
dissonance, disquietude,
and disassociation.

I’m too young to be this old.
It’s too soon to be too late.
I should have known what was foretold
by fortune and by fate.

This lead balloon I’m floating
just isn’t going to fly.
I’ll need a bigger skillet for
the fish I have to fry.

I’ve done everything I can.
I can’t go any higher.
I might survive the frying pan.
I won’t survive the fire.

I’m slowing down way too fast.
My next breath may be my last.
The starting gate and the finish line
are getting closer all the time.

Truth is stranger than non-fiction.
It isn’t what it seems,
24 frames-per-second
cinematic dreams.

This tunnel is a cul-de-sac,
shading into night.
No way forward, no way back.
Darkness at the speed of light.

Life is like a simile.
We know it’s unsustainable.
Searching for the Holy Grail,
obscure and unattainable.

All my urgent useless needs,
all my semi-worthless stones,
all my unaccomplished deeds
will wither with my bones.

Corpses keep their secrets.
Cadavers tell no lies.
So let me seize this last occasion
to apostrophize.

Life is just a metaphor
for something that it’s not.
I wish I could explain it better,
but that’s all I got.