Vocals and guitar:
Piano instrument:
Guitar instrument:
I suffer for knowledge
We’re a walking metronome,
under the gun, lifetimes
away from satisfaction
Well, this longing for the
divine really gets my
goat, sounding out the
words in my throat,
then shift a little, to the
next level—listening
for my internal narrator,
replacing him with the
voice of a king, noble
benefactor wearing His
ring; I’ll marry soon enough
as an old man - quick as
greased lightning,
handsome as the devil
beating his wife
trading sunshine for
starshine, this is my life:
squash the European
Union like a snake under
foot—what am I, then?
mad as the dickens?
Don’t put that gun to my
chest—I’m here to invest
waiting my turn at the
watering hole, there’s not
enough loving to go
around; musical chairs,
for now, against my will
you wave goodbye, you are
a pill, take me to your
leader—going somewhere
The man of the hour
doesn’t care—no saving
something that isn’t real
I arrive on time, minus
the thrill—seeking,
soul searching, looking
for the end of this—
gone to Nantucket,
pouncing on their
unadulterated bliss, a
function, then, of what
you can’t see—need a
better angle, climbing a
tree—make haste, friend
the trolls are after me,
this is a journey to the end
of His ending, no pain
in heaven, save, I guess,
the longing for a woman
and their caress, now
everybody pays my mind
I suffer for knowledge, and
then, my dear, I unwind