Losers are those children with snow flakes falling upon the top of their feet
Dissolving this liquid, not drinking, nor stopping to eat
Or was that lovers? What ever the case may be, it’s cold
And no, I don’t want your coat, because then you’ll be cold,
But I guess what we could do is, sell our dreams for a little piece of gold
Or old gloves, that’ll love us like puppies- blindly suckling the teat of some beast
See, what have I told you? I’ve told you many stories set upon mounds of diamond dust
With shadows so tall you’d think it’s us……..standing, giants in a sandbox swaying, smiling
As frozen as insects in tree sap, but who cares? We’re still wearing our work clothes, and breathing
Up each others air. I guess we’re sort of like the losers, because we only gain profit within ourselves
Unless you wish to set sail, switch ships- and cast away from bliss. O’lovely, O’lordy O’my… what a
Fine piece of rose leaf you are…I guess I’m the loser……maybe it’s not you, and it’s me…..that sat ever, so ever, so carelessly, and selfishly, far.
Now wake up my love, you’ve got class in an hour.