So when I wake up on a saturday
and I've slept as long as I can sleep
I think about the day ahead.
It's a day I say goodbye to an old friend.
he used to go to sleep in painted houses & dirty old hotels,
we'd run in parks, we'd drink & laugh,
he told me funny stories and we talked about our lack of will,
our lack of God, our tumble down hills
he lived in castles, he sat upon thrones
bugs crawling thru our hair, sloppy drunk kisses mean nothing
but today, he burns and hearts break
life fades out at a slow pace
you watch like a dream where you're falling & can't scream
if you could, it wouldn't stop it anyway
no matter how you love, it's not enough to
save someone from himself
he just keeps falling down
like a puppet with broken strings
when Tom Waits writes your eulogy
long before you've ever gone
Burroughs lasted 80 years
but he wasn't the lucky one
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