Lennon stood behind a canvas screen
Working on his primal screams
With sweat on his neck, he tries to forget
That some demons might leave you alone
But most of them will follow you home
On the platform of the metro last Friday night
A boy brandished his grandfather's pocket knife
With a letter in his coat, he slit his own throat
As his mother got off of the train
Then the ambulance took him away
You asked me if you were a scaredy cat
And I'm not really sure how to answer that
We're all scared, it seems, by the scope of our dreams
And what happens if they never come true
Or worse, if they do
Lennon walked into his living room
He opened a beer and kicked off his shoes
And listened to the hum of the refrigerator run
And the murmur of his little TV
And the bubbles that popped in his drink
You said that you're tied to your memories
And they're all that you have now for company
I'm not here to claim or apportion the blame
And I know we won't solve this tonight
But I thought that we might as well try