Those Poor Bastards
Those Poor Bastards
Why do I hate everything new?Why are my eyeballs sinking in?You’re getting old, buddy!You’re getting oldWhy is my my skin melting like wax?Why is my hair so gray and thin?You’re getting old, buddy!You’re getting oldIs there a devil to return my youthIf I should give him my soul?
Those Poor Bastards
Everything is temporaryNothing here will lastBreathe the dust around youIt’s the future it’s the pastNothing that you doWIll be remembered or remarkedYou’re just a loathsome strangerClutching, struggling in the darkEverything is temporaryThere is nothing we can doWhen I think of death
Those Poor Bastards
The beast has got a hold of meAnd I don’t even care to screamHis claws are tearing through my shoulderF*ck this town, f*ck that girlI’m tired of living like a foolI’m gonna leave this place behindThere’s gotta be something better than thisYesterday I broke my handPunching through the wallI don’