All There Is

This song goes out

to all the hopeless sinners,

with grave allegiances,

so meaningless and vain,



The walking wounded in a pagent of contenders

Who balance on a rail of pain for just a pail of rain



And everything is barely mist, blood relations and bricks

my expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this,

once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?



In my rectory of doubt, I kneel to pray like one devout,

As time the great gray dreamless sleep of a useless modern god

erodes away each storied day as wretched Adams with hell to pay

Content upon a rail of pain for just a little rain.



And everything is dearly missed, blood relations and bricks

my expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this,

once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?



There’s an endless disposition,

and it doesn’t mean a goddamn thing—

there’s space for a paper-airplane race in the eye of a hurricane.



And if pigs could fly, then surely so could I,

but this pedestrian knows better than to even try,

and my divinity is caught between the colors of a butterfly.



And everything is dearly missed, blood relations and bricks

my expression, my confession, add it up, extract duress and more than this,

once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?

All there is?






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