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There's a car parked where the block begins
And there's a bird perched on a frayed wet wire
And these people singing praises
Say it's all because of him
And his voice sings out for a lover
But it's covered by the choir
Of voices reaching way beyond the rafters
Besides, we all are making money
With devotion they perform these sacred tasks
They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks
Slight suffering is not too much to ask
And we don't know what we're doing
And we're all f**king alone
Because we know that we are lonely
Maybe just buying us some hope
Well, yeah, lonely that's for sure
And the older ones are coughing
Yeah, the older ones they're dying
Maybe we're all dying
on a fresh new mound of dirt
Today I saw two dozen white roses
I pass a graveyard on my way to work
And I wondered about the occupant
was he calm and content?
When the darkness finally swallowed him
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
Maybe it's me who's this unstable
Then collapsing on his back all pale and dead
Always obsessed about the end
And just enjoy the time I spend?
Why can't I let what happens happen
But when there is no point to anything
Oh, how I wish it was that easy
You know it gets a bit confusing
Why it is that I keep going
Why is it that we keep going
Bright Eyes:
Bright Eyes:
Bright Eyes:
Bright Eyes:
Bright Eyes:
