There is a car parked where the block begins
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And there are people singing praises
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Say it's all because of him
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And there is a bird perched on a frayed wet wire
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And his voice sings out for a lover
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But its covered by the choir of voices
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Reaching way beyond the rafters
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With devotion they perform these sacred tasks
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They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks
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Slight suffering is not too much to ask
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Besides we all are making money
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And we are all fucking alone
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And we don't know what we are doing
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Maybe just buying us some hope
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Because we know that we are lonely
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Yeah, lonely that's for sure
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And the older ones are coughing
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And the older ones are dying
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Maybe we are all dying
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I pass a graveyard on my way to work
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Today I saw two dozen white roses
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On a fresh new mound of dirt
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And I wondered about the occupant
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When the darkness finally swallowed him was he calm and content
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Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing,
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Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed
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Crying out loud for someone to help him
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And collapsing on his back all pale and dead
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Maybe it's me who's this unstable
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Always obsessed about the end
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Why can't I let what happens happen?
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And just enjoy the time I spend
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Oh how I wish it was so easy
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But when there is no point to anything it can get a bit confusing
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Why is that I keep going?
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Why is that we keep going?
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-----------------
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On My Way To Work
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| Bright Eyes |
