Thoughtful godless men find God in them at the age of twenty-five
But in a year, death gains favor and they think themselves the more alive
You'll find them in the loose caboose where the pills are kept and stupid juice
This one has a sleeping wheel
This one has a willing noose
Onward and on to the ends of love, pricked vanity, habit and ruse
Onward and on to a premature silence where death finds too much use
Fifteen year old whores in training, eyes a-batting, arms a-flailing
This fire-fanning express
If you're on board, amazement follows fear and rounded by dismay
It takes a corner to the day after today which is a father's sorrow
Onward and on to the ends of meanness where kindness is the means of the earth
Onward and on, awakening finds us too sensual beings from birth
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Like carnivores to carnal pleasures, so were we to desperate measures...
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