You'd be better if you had a steady gig.    You could tend bar,    be the one who turns the pig   over leaning flames and    embers red and low   as inspired by our neighbor volcano.   You'd be better off not working anymore.         Come on don't you wish you never tried?   You'd be better with your ankles tied.   Without death what is longevity?    Hawaii.         Angel hair, you said,    complaining to the chef.   Tie it back and throw away    whatever's left.   You'd be better pulling nails    out of the walls,   I'd be better jumping off of waterfalls.          But the office is a great big hug,   bars of light, the endless crew cut rug.   You call this an anniversary?   Hawaii!      Scent of doom came in the room   the talk shut off way too soon.   Passing time makes grit and grime   to keep you busy later.         The cameras are hanging   you're wearing a lei,   there's no need to move   for the rest of the day.   Arms getting soft   and the skin's coming off.   You're as tan as the past    and only hours away.         Get off your Parnassus, flee your Xanadu,   later El Dorado, none of you are true.   Heaven's cloudy, baby.    Hell is just too hot.         You'd be better getting on the plane.   Who knows when    we'll have the chance again?   Just like everywhere I've ever been.   Every man's an island, I'm seven.