Untitled.

Look at all the unhappy people in the world
Who just exist from day to day
Who live between shades of grey
All the broken-hearted people
All the broken-spirited people
Who were formed of the stuff of creation
Not of quintessence, but of clay

And look at kids playing in the park
That one looks so lonely
Afraid to join in, convincing himself
It's only stupid games
Maybe he'll burn down a school one day
Maybe he'll just drift from job to job
Sit and think, and drink

Until his demons go away
Until he goes away.