|
Next time we walk down to the docks |
|
While welcoming the morning sun |
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We'll share rations of bread with |
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Drifters and deceivers |
|
Know I only see this hour after |
|
Evenings of infamy |
|
There are thousands of you like me |
|
And you'll be so so sorry |
|
When you start to hate the sound of laughter |
|
Grinding your teeth down to powder |
|
How rewarding is it |
|
Just to be alive we could have residence |
|
In the worst prison |
|
That happens when you die and have |
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No friends to carry caskets in the saddest procession |
|
Those people often say they're sorry |
|
When your soul departs |
|
But they recover oh so quick |
|
There are thousands of you like me |
|
And you'll be so so sorry |
|
When you start to hate the sound of laughter |
|
Grinding your teeth down to powder |
|
There are thousands of you like me |
|
And you'll be so so sorry |
|
when you start to hate the sound of laughter |
|
Grinding your teeth down to powder |
