So first I was a bomb in a briefcase A mess of smoke and fear I couldnt hide it from me let alone anyone in here I saw myself in the mirror For the first time in a while I was rudely interrupted by a guy with a great big smile I said, thanks a lot for nothing, asshole Is this some kind of joke? He said, I dont hear anyone laughing over The sound of you as you choke But dont let it go to your head Theres room enough in here for us both. So then I was a priest at a pulpit And the only people in the nave Where the only people that my message would never save So Jesus, if youre really coming Really you should get here soon The price of gasolines been going through the roof So should we mourn like we believe in something Or live like someone died? Do good things happen to terrible people? Is there even such a thing? I still cant decide I open the paper And let it make up my mind I want to be a cause with no martyr I want to be a fight I cant win Lets give it up to the ghost that haunts me once again Because even though its falling apart, I still want it And even though its all I know It seems to me, if you never quit writing You never have to read what you wrote And how is that different from making it up as you go? And how is that different from walking on the side of the road? And how is that different from everything that I know?
different, people, even, anyone, rudely