Story

these instruments are useless
as if there's something we've got to do
these words are true but don't help me
so these words are useless too
sweating sweet as though dying
from some exotic poison
we live our little lives
we walk through the fire
not unscathed but uncaring
shouldering the burden
of the pain we're sharing
police ask you for identification
you've chosen your drug for pacification
still trying to find some end to the means
still trying to build some real life dreams
you sing
(this is not profound)
i am unhappy
(this is not profound)
nothing seems to help
that's a facet but the truth is
we live our little lives
we walk through fire
not unscathed but uncaring
shouldering the burden
of the pain we're sharing
police search you for identification
you've lived your life like so much animation
crying out for an end to the means
stoned and stoic, you say you do not dream
i say...
plenty of experience
but no lessons
macho bravado
willing ignorant regression
the end was ruined by
what you did to the means
now i'll just leave you
to you opiate dreams
maybe you did the best with what you found
but that's the way it is all around
i won't complain about what you did to me
it's just another story i hate to see
still...