murderd in the alleys of the city
frost bitten against flagpoles
pawned by females
educated in the dark...for the dark
pukin' in gas station fuckin' toilets
or in rented rooms full of roaches and rats
no wonder I seldom sing
anymore
the useless wars
the useless years
the useless loves
and they ask me
"why do you drink so much?"
well...i suppose the days were made
to be wasted
the years and the lusts were made
to be wasted
i don't cry, and it helps to laugh-
it's like purging
dreams, ideals
poisons
don't ask me to sing
laughing IS singing to me
you see?...it's all a terrible joke
Christ shoulda laughed on the cross
it woulda PETRIFIED His killers
now theres more killers than ever
and i've written this shit...
for them
