I went through death yesterday, and life today
Seems I will never understand.
I walked on rainy roads, and lost my way,
I'm out of touch with my demands.
I won’t circle your house tonight or call you on the phone
Don’t even have enough of me.
I’ll sit inside with a beer, retarded and stoned,
Nervous like Anthony.
Mr. Jones and I were talking over dinner
boring each other to pieces,
I think that he the loser, and I the sinner,
enjoy the comfort of distress.
I have an apartment in central town
I keep on chasing my own shadow,
When I am distraught I act the clown
and drill a hole in my windows
So I can see out from this merciless cell
of lonely hours built
I take a sip of the nightly air, and all is well,
I almost feel no guilt.
So through the night of reckless fighting
Sever the arms of my hatchet man
I live a dream, and dream a life,
with my eyes glued to the minute hand.