If this, if that
If every damn piece
Of future we don’t have
Could bite our ears
It’d be in charge
Like the faerie devils
That we see on shoulders
Around the way
Sitting and chatting
Away the loneliness
Screeching of little white
Lies we want to believe
While hiding
And waiting for the shit
To tumble down the hill
Well no, well no
That’s not right
To say that
If this, if that
Is what we hear
And now
You got but one
Devil waiting when
You got on your hands:
A man who knows loneliness
Had wrapped himself
Up in a cocoon
And darlin’
He’s tired
Of if