|
I, I've been lonely |
|
And I, I've been blind |
|
And I, I've learned nothing |
|
So my hands are firmly tied |
|
To the sinking leadweight of failure |
|
I've worked hard all my life |
|
Money slips through my hands |
|
My face in the mirror tells me it's no surprise |
|
That I'm pushing the stone up the hill of failure |
|
They tempt me with violence |
|
They punish me with ideals |
|
And they crush me with an image of my life that's nothing but unreal |
|
Except on the goddamned slaveship of failure |
|
I'll drown here trying to get up for some air |
|
But each time I think I breathe |
|
I'm laid on with a double share |
|
Of the punishing burden of failure |
|
I don't deserve to be down here |
|
But I'll never leave |
|
And I've learned one thing |
|
You can't escape the beast |
|
In the null and void pit of failure |
|
When I get my hands on some money |
|
I'll kiss its green skin |
|
And I'll ask its dirty face |
|
"Where the hell have you been?" |
|
"I am the fuel that fires the engine of failure" |
|
I'll be old and broken down |
|
I'll forget who and where I am |
|
I'll be senile or forgotten |
|
But I'll remember and understand |
|
You can bank your hard-earned money on failure |
|
I saw my father crying |
|
I saw my mother break her hand on a wall that wouldn't weep |
|
But that certainly held in |
|
The mechanical moans of a dying man who was a failure |
|
My back hurts me when I bend because I carry a load |
|
My brain hurts me like a knife-hole |
|
Because I've yet to be shown |
|
How to pull myself out from the sucking quicksand of failure |
|
Some people live in Hell |
|
Many bastards succeed |
|
But I, I've learned nothing |
|
I can't even elegantly bleed |
|
Out the poison blood of failure |