We are the sound and the fury.
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We're what's left of the hope and the glory.
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Foreshadowed by the dust in the ghost town,
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and the rust of the factory shutdown.
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I've got a fistful of crumbs, and a mouthful of lies.
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Everyone needs a hobby. Ours is suicide.
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We had all the right tools: Opposable thumbs and big brains full of useless shit.
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A long history of wrong turns and dead ends brings us back to where we started again.
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And I think that I'm outranked,
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Outmanned, outgunned, and outflanked.
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"Out of Step"? Yeah, I know what that feels like.
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This contract is null and void.
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We tore it up before the ink was dry.
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Can I remember how to forget? Well let's hope so.
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Because tonight I can't tell friend from foe.
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Live fast (but don't die young).
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Slow down, but never, ever stop.
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-----------------
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The Beekeeper
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Paint It Black |