War, not peace-cycle: dead end
We’ve come to a dead end
There is nothing worth waiting for
Only the nightmares of leaving too soon
It’s not an articulated fantasy
Things keep sticking like flies
The weather’s to hot, but I might as well
Go, and forget what we’ve got
No fall, no winter, no seasons at all
It’s another reason not to begin again
I’ve smoked too much
Not spoken too soon
And I can’t help it but each time I see you, I wish I was dead
