Let me be the one they call cadaver
Well its winter in spring and I’ve got weak knees and
cold feet
It’s a bitter cold, and it’s a cold that I will never
drink to
Dressing in black is becoming a habit
I can’t compromise for the bones that I never owned
Pulling favors for the dishonest simply because I love
the dead
So tell me something other then “this happened again.”
Dressing in black is becoming a habit
God gets no more favors from me, and there is no moon
When you get on your knees, your knees to pray
I’ll be the man smoking on the other side of the door
This irony has always kept these hands clean
and irony keeps these lungs clean
This is the only time I can be sure not to lose my grip
I am ready, but I am not ready
We are ready. We are not ready