No 4 of 4
"On How Life Is"
There's a star above the horizon tonight
Which falls and shatters on the hills
There's a full moon rising o'er the houses tonight
Which crumbles and falls on the city
Guillotine wires
bring heavenly choirs
And a love that must not be named
Prays heavy on the mind of little boys. . .
Oh, to be alone with oneself for the littlest of while's
I wouldn't say no to that.
But in dark, heavy rooms the little cat sat
Pawing the door to the hall
Sighs and lies are all the same
Shattered glass by the picture frame
Two in the morning, late afternoon
Distorted sound, a nostalgic tune (repeats)
Car horns and empty grins
Smell the same to an old man rocking
Gently in his chair
A little boy cries with the world on his shoulder
As the things they believe in burn up and smoulder
Little dogs/girls whimper like cats in the cradle
Serving fat men soup from the ladle
From cradle to grave
You're god's little slave
So you you moan and you cry
And you just want to die
But deep in your heart of hearts you know,
That's not the way you want to go.
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