This song goes out
To all the hopeless sinners,
With grave allegiances,
So meaningless and vain,
Though walking wounded in a pageant of contenders,
Who balance on a rail of pain for just a pale refrain.
And everything is barely missed, but relations and (predicts?)
My expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this,
Once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?
In my rectory of doubt, I kneel to pray like one devout,
As time the great great dreamless sleep of a useless modern god
Erodes away each sorry day as wretched adams, one hell to pay--
Contained upon a rail of pain for just a little rain.
And everything is dearly missed, but relations and predicts
My expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this,
Once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?
There's an endless disposition,
And it doesn't mean a goddamn thing-
There's space for a paper-airplane race in the eye of a hurricane.
And if pigs could fly, then surely so could I,
But this pedestrian knows better than to even try,
And my divinity is caught between the colors of a butterfly.
And everything is dearly missed, but relations and predicts
My expression, my confession, add it up, extract duress and more than this,
Once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?
All there is?
