The stars fly through the cosmos,
but I don’t really care,
I look down at my shiny shoes,
and stroke my thinning hair.
My tie is tired of being tight,
and my jacket’s on the floor,
it’s 3 a.m. in the morning,
and life is such a bore.
And the devil plays an old banjo,
and sings a silly tune,
the children all laugh and smile at him,
and hate the morning dew.
But I can sing the silly song,
and step on all the cracks,
I know the final words I’ll sing,
that breaks my bony back
And as I lay me down to sleep
I whisper with my breath
“I hate this world and all I’ve done,
but I hate what’s coming next.”