On My Way To Work

There is a car parked where the block begins And there are people singing praises Say it's all because of him And there is a bird perched on a frayed wet wire And his voice sings out for a lover But its covered by the choir of voices Reaching way beyond the rafters With devotion they perform these sacred tasks They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks Slight suffering is not too much to ask Besides we all are making money And we are all fucking alone And we don't know what we are doing Maybe just buying us some hope Because we know that we are lonely Yeah, lonely that's for sure And the older ones are coughing And the older ones are dying Maybe we are all dying I pass a graveyard on my way to work Today I saw two dozen white roses On a fresh new mound of dirt And I wondered about the occupant When the darkness finally swallowed him was he calm and content Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed Crying out loud for someone to help him And collapsing on his back all pale and dead Maybe it's me who's this unstable Always obsessed about the end Why can't I let what happens happen? And just enjoy the time I spend Oh how I wish it was so easy But when there is no point to anything it can get a bit confusing Why is that I keep going? Why is that we keep going?