Quiet! Quiet! Footsteps
Careful that my thoughts don't hear
I'm afraid that if I wake them
They'll rip between my ears
Quiet, quiet! Fingers
As I type around my terror
I sense the blackness coming
Though I'm neat in all my errors
Crowd, crowd the good ones
Fading deep into their shadow
They cower in the corner
Defenseless without ammo
Just can't make it
Just can't make it on my own
Just can't make it
Stiff, brittle, hollow
The former lush and green
That shiny spark of hope
Has lost its silver sheen
Gather, gather lab coats
Grab a pen and forge
Take your treasure with you
It's stinking up the morgue
Toast, toast the winners
The vultures and the jackals
I'll try to hear the music
In your dry and piercing cackle
Just can't make it
Just can't make it on my own
Just can't make it