Under the Lamp-post

And so they say, so they say “But you won’t understand the workings of this world with your head buried in the sand.”
And so I say “But there’s so much to do? And the graveness of the situation is shadowed by my ineptitude.”
There’s nothing like the moon to hide the sun, we’re forced to use the lamp-post to guide us home.
We thought we’d last forever, we were wrong. We walk home through the night time singing songs, ‘cause there’s no forever.
Trust the fact that everything is relative, trust the fact that nobody will ever say: 'fine.
The brain is all there is to the mind.' But life is not a waste of your time.
This is no lament, it’s suspension of belief, it’s analyzing everything to justify a means.
“KEEP GOD OUT OF FIRHOUSE.” was written down by my house.
Ten foot letters on a concrete wall. Did the priest mind? Well not at all.
If he has to pick and choose well then his ethics are his.
There’s nothing like your brain to spoil the fun, but you must keep living until you’re done.
This was all in effort to feel alive. If anybody sings this into the night. It’ll live forever.
Etch my name in a tree so passers-by are aware that I once lived a life without a care. A single set of footprints just to prove that I was there.
Well you’re lookin’ at me while I’m lookin’ at you. When will you realize, son, you’re singing to an empty room?