Lyrics

I don?t know how I got here; this uniform is strange
The gutters and the streamers should make a nice parade
Ain?t it such a shame we ain?t got the wings to fly away?
And now my arms have rusted into an old pitchfork salute
To turn away the cheerful in answer to my age
The sun doesn?t bend on the sidewalk to keep itself from hitting you
Who knew the General in his prime was walking with a clubbed foot?
Let the party-goers slide; they are more or less alive
They can feel it in their joints, never fails to disappoint