Sentimental Man

There is no heaven and there's no hell
No limbo inbetween -- I think it's all a lie
Just a white light out to velvet black
and back to neutral gray -- that's all when we die

There is no fate that divides our day
no spirits hard at work, no unseen hand at play
people talk like it's a given thing
I dunno what they mean -- nor, I suspect, do they
I guess that's OK

But how do you know I'm not a sentimental man?
is it really so hard to see these things? I guess it is
I really don't know why, I think it's right there
nobody's perfect, but I'm doing what I can
and you best believe I'll keep it real

I'm an old testament kind of guy
I like my coffee black, and my parole denied
even as I flake on every deal
I ever made with myself before the ink could dry
I should keep that one inside...

How do you know I'm not a sentimental man?
is it really so hard to catch that vibe? I guess it is
I couldn't tell you why, I think it's plain to see
certain distaster, and I really couldn't say how the fuck I let this get that far

How do you know I'm not your biggest fan?
Can you really make this case so clear? I think you can't
I don't know why you try, I think it's all a game
I'm under the covers and I'm telling you goodnight
'cos I plan to have some real fine dreams