these instruments are useless   as if there’s something we’ve got to do   these words are true but don’t help me   so these words are useless too   sweating sweet as though dying   from some exotic poison   we live our little lives   we walk through the fire   not unscathed but uncaring   shouldering the burden    of the pain we’re sharing   police ask you for identification   you’ve chosen your drug for pacification   still trying to find some end to the means   still trying to build some real life dreams   you sing   (this is not profound)   i am unhappy   (this is not profound)   nothing seems to help   that’s a facet but the truth is   we live our little lives   we walk through fire   not unscathed but uncaring   shouldering the burden   of the pain we’re sharing   police search you for identification   you’ve lived your life like so much animation   crying out for an end to the means   stoned and stoic, you say you do not dream   i say...   plenty of experience   but no lessons   macho bravado   willing ignorant regression   the end was ruined by   what you did to the means   now i’ll just leave you    to you opiate dreams   maybe you did the best with what you found   but that’s the way it is all around   i won’t complain about what you did to me   it’s just another story i hate to see   still...