Lyrics

outside the box

ragweed fields and temples made of bugs
zebra mussel streams

entertainment for the inside looking out
deadly theater of extremes

now where cameras fly in ultraviolet skies
only gunfighters remain

it?s not pretty when a species goes insane
in the service of its skin
I?m outside the box and that?s where I?ll remain
?til the Reaper calls me in

remembering the first time that I drew
pretty pictures in the sand

flash of light a hiss of blood and then I knew
death was natural to my hand

its not pretty when a killer learns his trade
in the service of his skin
I?m outside the box and that?s where I will stay
until my number?s up and it?s

I?ve apologized to all of them but one
now she?s the one I see

in her hand she?s got a smoking gun
with a notch on it for me

my knees buckle as I tumble to the ground
she waves my soul good-bye and then she turns around
I guess my number?s up and it?s

not pretty when a species goes insane...

Copyright 2001 P.J. Shapiro
pjshapiro@pjshapiro.com
www.pjshapiro.com