Graves Of Rockers

we could sit in here and drink right through the night

hear the tales of drugs and alcohol and fights

and where the stories go around the car park in the snow but

it's a black and white world to live inside

marx was wrong and groucho's gone (why not)

give chance a piece of what's going on

the little white lies and the long white lines

only hide the cracks in what we're standing on

we are born and then we become what we are

strung between the lines of a guitar

and many seem to want what none would surely choose again;

the graves of rockers

you don't have to suffer like you do

this is the strangest place you've been

sat in the back

of a stretch limousine

you drink to ishmael the one that's left alive

a drink is an article of faith

to someone with more than one face

to show to the world when you cannot sneak it past

and you want to have it all, ahead of time

there written on each granite slab of stone

above the bleaching, brittle bones

the numbers don't add up, there's none

would surely choose again

the graves of rockers

few things hurt more

than being ignored

face up in the bath a stupid smile upon your face you only

forget why you'd done it all

there written on each slab of frozen stone

above the bleaching, brittle bones

the numbers don't add up there's none would surely choose again

the graves of rockers