You'll do what you can, it doesn't matter.
You’re all alone.
You think you've got a plan, but then it shatters.
You’re on your own.
You sing your songs in the shower.
No one will know.
The days have turned into a pattern
that you don’t sew.
And all the times you think it's all gone wrong
Take comfort that your city's not getting bombed.
You’re free to do as you please
So the apartment is always clean.
It's a very neat and very organized sadness.
You're a butter spread for a disease
that's bread for sex.
You're a sexually transmitted
Of submission to a prison
for a common goal.
With permission for competition
A pirate makes the sea into a home.
But wishes someday he could settle down
Social Security, a gated community
And finding peace in the eye's of his lover.