| You can make a plan
|
| Carve it into stone
|
| Like a feather falling
|
| That is still unknown
|
| Until the clock speaks up
|
| Says it’s time to go
|
| You can choose the high
|
| Or the lower road
|
| You might clench your fist
|
| You might fork your tongue
|
| As you curse or praise
|
| All the things you’ve done
|
| And the faders move
|
| And the music dies
|
| As we pass over
|
| On the arc of time
|
| So you’ll nurse your love
|
| like a wounded dove
|
| in the covered cage of night
|
| Every star is crossed
|
| the frenetic thoughts
|
| they separate and then collide
|
| and they twist like sheets
|
| ‘til you fall asleep
|
| and they finally unwind
|
| it’s a black balloon,
|
| it’s a dream you’ll soon
|
| deny
|
| I hear if you make friends
|
| With Jesus Christ
|
| You’ll get right up
|
| From that chalk outline
|
| And you get dolled up
|
| And you’re dressed in white
|
| And he’ll take your place (?)
|
| In this chorus line (?)
|
| And then in you’ll come
|
| With those marching drums
|
| In a saintly compromise
|
| No more whiskey slurs
|
| No more blonde hair girls
|
| For your whole eternal life
|
| And you’ll do the dance
|
| That was choreographed
|
| At the very dawn of time
|
| Singing «I told you
|
| son,
|
| The day would come,
|
| You would die, you die, you die, you die…"
|
| To the deepest part
|
| Of the human heart
|
| The fear of death expands
|
| ‘til we crack the code,
|
| we’ve always know
|
| But could never understand
|
| On a circuit board
|
| We’ll soon be born
|
| Again, again, again, again… |