If this, if that

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