the world is a harsh metaphor
for something i can’t understand
twelve candles or stars
or tongues of fire
against a darkness not evil, but bland
i’ve stumbled and grumbled my way through life
passed sixty years now and nothing to show
a month-to-month rental
some trinkets and trifles
a head full of nitro with no fuse to blow
so come along girls and all you young men
the promise was made to be broken
with god for a lover
and satan your friend
there is much left better unspoken
life is a mystery and death is its solving
and all the rest is a red herring
the sun will rise ever
the moon keep revolving
so learn when you’re young to stop caring
old age is a blessing and death is no curse
as i drop through the hole in the gallows
one last shit and it’s over
for better or worse
and the field ‘neath my feet will lay fallow
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