The seasons are still and silence has fallen upon me and driven deep the nail
These costumes have dressed me to pose as a man of which I shall not fail
But swear words are scratched where I live on the elevator door
And TVs are fingernails screeching above and below of my floor
The simple exclusion of a handful of habits and my favourite things
They rip me to pieces and reek of a guilt
they're the songs that sing me to sleep
I've seen all the rainy things that I have wanted to see
And I wait every day for The Wave to wash me to sea
The tables have turned in the favour of beauty
and the scales have tipped for the worse
There's not much chance for us handful of gents
who have chosen a life of the poor
To be nice is loneliness sprinkled with a pinch of recluse
And shorter is better when I score the last goal and still lose
We'll meet at our spot at the end of the road
because the city is too hot to taste
And we'll bring us a bottle of yesterday's youth
and we'll spill it for symbolic waste
The dullness of age has ripped the ideals from our lives
It's a tourniquet wrapped around virgin imagining minds
I still care about something, I'm sure I still do
It's just what it is it's the thing that I gave once to you