01.01.2007
12
Poetry
Tekst piosenki
not much chance of nirvana
on a greyhound bus from
nowhere to no place
a lady sits in front of you
bird's nest in her hair
you'll never see her face
people don't talk to each-other
only the crazies do that
and you'll never get zen
by looking out the window
at dead grass and strip-malls
that's not how it happens
you'd have to kill a man
with your bare hands to get
your blood pressure to rise
a nipple above nothing
and if the bus stops in the
middle of anywhere
it will be the same
and you'll have to find your
nirvana in the back of someone
else's head
while staring at a tangled mess
or the strait lines in the road
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