The Money Trees

you're moving up to try and make a living
off selling out. you're a losing and you're winning.
eventually, all the papers and magazines
will follow you as you travel in limousines.
not in your dreams.

it's not the flash that blinds you when you're leaving,
it's the solemn fact that nothing is worth keeping.
and once the bread becomes the living dead,
the sun is down and you have nothing left.
it's all in your head.

the summer's gone and they miss you less every day.
you're losing things that weren't supposed to go away.
and when you try to look back at what you had,
you see a frame holding bodies in their places,
there's no faces.

dreams are about things that you can't have,
and we're all dreamers holding ourselves back.
life is about things that you can't see,
and we're all lustful, so we dream.
and dream,
and dream,
and dream...