what once was a prize
on your lone city street
decayed
and just wanted to die,
yeah, decayed
and just waited to die.
But it burned down
from the roof to the ground
and there's grass in the attic
and it's spreading to town
and the cans in the basement?
they're still underground
your prized coin collection:
stolen before it was found
the duct tape on the couches
shriveled up in the flames
yeah, all those lazy quick-fixes
now they don't mean a thing.
No, they don't mean a thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment