This song goes out

To all the hopeless sinners,

With grave allegiances,

So meaningless and vain,



Though walking wounded in a pageant of contenders,

Who balance on a rail of pain for just a pale refrain.



And everything is barely missed, but relations and (predicts?)

My expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this,

Once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?



In my rectory of doubt, I kneel to pray like one devout,

As time the great great dreamless sleep of a useless modern god

Erodes away each sorry day as wretched adams, one hell to pay--

Contained upon a rail of pain for just a little rain.



And everything is dearly missed, but relations and predicts

My expression, my confession, add it up, extract a lesson, more than this,

Once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?



There's an endless disposition,

And it doesn't mean a goddamn thing-

There's space for a paper-airplane race in the eye of a hurricane.



And if pigs could fly, then surely so could I,

But this pedestrian knows better than to even try,

And my divinity is caught between the colors of a butterfly.



And everything is dearly missed, but relations and predicts

My expression, my confession, add it up, extract duress and more than this,

Once again, like a bullet as a friend, tell me: can that be all there is?

All there is?