Man is born, man lives, man dies.
And its all vanity.
To me
Coming from you
Friend is a four letter word
End is the only part of the word
That I heard.
Call me morbid or absurd…
But to me
Coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
Beyond the sons that guard this roof,
Beyond your flowers of flaming truths,
Beyond your latest ad campaigns…
An old man sits collecting stamps,
In a room all filled with Chinese lamps.
He saves what others throw away
He says that he’ll be rich someday…
He moves his words like a prize fighter.
The frenzied pace of the mind,
Inside the cell.
In a wooden boat,
In the shipping lanes
With the freighters towering over me
I can hear the jets
Flying overhead
Making lines across the darkening sky…