folk song. - Dillinger Four

It’s like picking up the pieces is a daily chore

Thinking of your timecard forms a habit

Watching rich folks on TV’s like picking a sore

Fuck it all, they can have it

Now I’m loaded like a gun again

Like a plague of locusts, heaven-sent

Just a ball of dissension with a death perception

I won’t sweat the definition of content

They said better safe than sorry, and look out for number one

I heard only play the cards you’re shown

Fuck what they say, it doesn’t matter anyway

Only in your grave are you alone

Like grown men staring with little boys' eyes

And actresses speaking with conviction

These people should demand a Pulitzer Prize

For various works of fiction

Judge a book by its cover and keep one eye on your back

I heard only play the cards you’re shown

I say fuck what they say, it doesn’t matter anyway

Only in your grave are you alone

So many people with so much to show

Rotting away in their own little holes

One can only wonder why

I’ll celebrate my home

But know that I’m not alone

Only fools are along for the ride

I’m thinking of the size

Of this world that’s right outside

Please don’t waste it trying to hide