Letras
It's been almost two months now since your funeral
I didn't go because I always get into fights at funerals
No one wants to hear that none of us
Expected to see thirty, much less fifty
It was your birthday, wasn't it?
You always used to say that you gotta be ready to die
Every second of every day or you're not really living
Because to know about life, we surrounded ourselves with death
With the dead and dying
With the dope fiends and drug addicts and the sex fanatics
And alcoholic underachievers
The thieves and prostitutes
The dropouts and deadbeats
And all the misfits who didn't belong, who didn't want to belong
Who by no accident or freak of nature got chosen to be called up first
Like they always knew they would be
Which is why they gluttonized and devoured
And eventually choked to death on life
That raced forward faster than a speeding bullet
Did you kiss the bullet?
Did you polish the gun?
No one cries for the dead
They cry for themselves, those who have to live through death
We, those who remain, who in our own individual pain
Replay the same horrifying scenes over and over again
Night fatigue and the hint of catastrophe
Make sex seem almost unbearable
In this, the age of the death of seduction
Where the pleasure palaces have been turned into torture chambers
In this, the killing zone of false memory
Did you kiss the bullet?
Did you polish the gun?
Did you think that you'd find salvation?
Did you think that you'd find salvation?
It's been two months now since your funeral
I didn't go
I didn't go
I didn't go