Reality, Vonnegut, And Me
Play The Smiths at my funeral
Then play games on my grave
Laugh at my old photographs
That you know you won't save
Write about it
Scream about it
By all means go insane
Just don't worry about me
Consciousness dies with the brain
Dim highway headlights
And crooked paintings on the wall
Colder afternoons
Shifting to nightfall
Unfiltered cigarettes
In the hands of holy saints
The world is crumbling faster now
There's no more room for complaints
Bright morning sunshine
And the burning of hellfire
Cheap coffee getting cold
And the feel of razor wire
Caged birds flying
Unfazed by the bars
It's easier to forget your freedom
When you forget the stars
It seems like in the beginning
People just did not see
The start of a crooked era
The atrophy of humanity