Obituaries

You bled into the night, (and made your bed, by the ocean)
And in your casual way, said goodbye
To everything, you claim you never loved…
The Berlin wall was built around your heart
And it was just too tall, for anyone to climb

Will you ever get… what you deserve?

Coz let me tell you…
It’s a bloody, cold day in hell
And I would sell my soul for an overcoat

Another family portrait falls from off the wall
Now a statistic, stored inside a file (documented)
You can mark my words; if this prolongs
It will be the rupture of our social scene

So let’s flood the airwaves, with this desperate plea
“Let the children sleep tonight, let them dream of being loved”

Coz let me tell you…
It’s a bloody cold day in hell
And I would sell my soul for an overcoat

Sometimes I pray to wake up dead
And sometimes I read the obituaries
(and dig up the dirt on you)

Written by Vincent White