So here's a note I left
by the fireplace and ash
from all the notes that I have burned
not long ago.
It's great how severing all these ties
can make things right -
at least less wrong
than they ever were before.
The days I'd sit and sieve
by the window
and I can taste the awful vapor
of nostalgia mixed with hurt.
And now my mouth, my mouth is dry;
I choke on logic and my tongue is tied
from reciting inspired-babble verses
and bullshit lies.
They say that this world is a wide open road
and we're stuck holding the wheel.
But in one hand's a whiskey,
and the other's too drunk to steer.
So where do we go from here now?
So where do we go from here now?
I dance and pray, I dance and pray for rain
to wipe this Earth out once again
and extend those forty days and nights indefinitely.
There'll be tidal waves
as all of our problems wash away.
You can hear my laughter
just before I start to drown.
And if everyone here is a child of God's,
this world is a pityless whore.
And He's still playing favorites
and behind on his child support.
So where do we go from here now?
Where do we go from here now?
So where, where do we go (where do we go) from here now (now)?
The noose that we wear doesn't matter at all
unless we kick out our feet,
and perhaps our salvations
to the Lord that were incomplete.
So here's the note, the note that counts
explaining why I wanted out.
It reads in small print,
"I'm much too tired to think anymore."
No, no, no, so where do we go from here now?
So where (where do we go, where do we go) from here now? [x4]
