There it is, up a sidewalk
Full of debris and old bins
Where you and I belong
With the rest of them

the others are in their
little castles, cursing the devil
And keeping the fiends at bay
With their bank accounts intact

It's a small world
Neatly formed and round
And it turns because
That's what it knows

Which is a comfort
The grave's fine and private
No kissing there my friend
Just a place, like the air

So you can happily paddle
Up the creek to the end
everyone doing the same
Perfecting their stroke

It's the way it's designed
Without alot of choice
Of what might have been
Or just a dream of what is