Текст …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead – A Classic Arts Showcase

White glow of a TV set
Lights dancing on a screen
Voice-overs rise like minarets
Then fall diatonically

All those hours of wasted time have never crossed my mind

Here I am comfortable
In arm’s reach of the black remote
Here I am comfortable
Surrounded by strings and bows
Let everyone else go

Nights on Kirkwood so serene
Far from the sirens and the screams
I could write or I could read, go next door and smoke some weed
As long as I don’t have to think
About who is running this mess
What shit they write in the Stone or NME
Go out and make a last call or sit here and do nothing at all
What’s it to me?

All those hours of wasted time have never crossed my mind

Here I am comfortable
In arm’s reach of the black remote
Here I am comfortable
And all those clowns, what can they know?
Let everyone else go

All those hours of wasted time have never crossed my mind

Here I am comfortable