All good things must come to an end...
And in the end all good things are like a friend
Lost in the annals of time lost
To a bunch of things tossed off
The balconies of our lives.
As unfortunate as it is...
And on those balconies sit perched
So many thoughts and dreams
(and a corner where somebody lurched);
Where you go to hear your screams;
Shuttered only half the length,
Because we always have to let somebody see in.
Why do we let them see in?
Because alone we can’t win
If we’re the only one competing
In a race with no finish line
And no preset finish time.
Just a bunch of uphill running to get in better shape I guess.
And what a mess that balcony is
And how it can let away our fizz
Like those bullshit soda can top closer things.
Maybe some beer bottles and a little jizz...
Someday we have to clean that shit off.
Eventually returning to the clean, shiny,
Ever standing trash can of understanding that is our life.
Putting in and taking out like so many homeless do,
What a mess we are to think we can strive
To have a trash can that’s clean on the inside.
Nobody cleans the inside of their trash cans.
In the corner like that slightly damp paper that won’t shake out,
Those few things we can’t figure out or remove with a stick
Because their stuck there like a rotted piece of fruit,
Just attracting flies, and telling us lies
About how they belong there right now.
And somehow, with that stick we found,
We clean out the dirty round
Of all it’s bits of paper, in fits
Returning to wiping the outside
To hide all the stuck pieces on the inside.
Doesn’t this thing have a lid?
And why the fuck are there so many trash cans?
And as we look from our alley at our trash can chorus and balcony,
We see that our friendship with this alley can end;
We can just move to a different place, fuck this alley.
In the end we "can."
Trash can, why can’t we?