I may be an optimistic man but there is what you need, what you have….and then there is what’s for sale Sweet asylum can be had but I don’t have to tell you it’s in high demand I see you wandering out there in the darkness
So you made it to the promised land, a paradise built on quicksand Another poor soul reaching for a burning branch So you best keep clawing and sharpening your wits That which is silenced is that which is forgotten
I’ve got a mind full of caskets, the soul of a stray, eyes like an old dog and a heart like a winter lake I’ve been told how to live, reminded to die while I watch you trample one another on the way to your graves
These are strange times we’re living in. Where thoughts are not for thinking, where madness is sanity and there’s no such thing as home
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