Poor Boy
Poor boy,
why don't you try getting water?
Poor boy,
why don't you try getting sleep?
I think if one of us is going to suffer,
why shouldn't it be me?
Poor boy,
your wife is in hard labor.
The rhythm you know
is pulsing and drifting to the grave.
When you come to
you'll be asking yourself one question:
Was I always this way?
Think back a year,
when everything stood at the surface
but bandage your cuts 'cause you don't know what swims underneath.
Hold tight,
the bondage of this life is slipping
and why shouldn't it be me?
When I come back
you'll be the brightest star
in the black.
When there are days
you want the call we're all waiting for,
think back.
Poor boy,
your wife is in hard labor.
Go buy the flowers you'll leave on its grave.
You went with a goal of movement,
now one thing is different:
you don't want to change.
I don't want to change.