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On My Way to Work
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There's a car parked where the block begins And these people singing praises Say it's all because of him And there's a bird perched on a frayed wet wire And his voice sings out for a lover But it's covered by the choir Of voices reaching way beyond the rafters With devotion they perform these sacred tasks They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks Slight suffering is not too much to ask Besides, we all are making money And we're all fucking alone And we don't know what we're doing Maybe just buying us some hope Because we know that we are lonely Well, yeah, lonely that's for sure And the older ones are coughing Yeah, the older ones they're dying Maybe we're all dying I pass a graveyard on my way to work Today I saw two dozen white

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Number of PetitLyrics Plays:1


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