back

eyes of birth
burdened by nothing important
'til the end
in the beginning
on the day before
yesterday
we pretended we still knew
what we were doing
and where we were going
ignoring the boring boredoms
of this "everyday life" thing
we'd like to call "living"
yet we still go
clutching our funny sticks and stones
men with no backbones
on high ground and getting lower
fame forgotten nothing know-it-all
ending up dead in a bathtub
and we're still going
we're still going