these sorts of dreams

Dresser top diving
Ripping up playboys
Breathless and dustily we dirt clod fight
Dad's digging trenches on your front lines
All stooped over under the milky way tonight

So much for high school
You smoked it away
While I slept through ten hours of detention a day
Reading the odd letter
In your frozen hand
The sergeant is too narrow and the hallways are bland

Wasting a whole winter
Two weekends at a time
Fighting for freedom so I could work full time

So much for college
So much for anything
I couldn't decide and you couldn't sing

So park in the garage and turn the car on suck the toxins in
I know, trust me, I know you have had these sorts of dreams
Hang the five day waiting list, you'll get one and you'll use it
But don't ever imagine these illusions are real

Her lips are all puckered but you won't condescend to fuck her
There's another more dysfunctional one in the hall
I'm not much better
Leaving the odd sweater standing alone on the umpteenth front porch

None of my best friends amounted to anything
I couldn't play alone and they couldn't sing

Put your head into the noose and kick the stepladder from underneath
Ibuprophen tastes much better twenty at a time
I know, trust me, I know you have entertained the odd notion
Don't ever imagine you're alone and these illusions are real
Because suicide is painless

Everybody drink the kool-ade
Down another box of tacks
Throw yourselves in hogtied bundles helpless to the railroad tracks
Dive off multi-storied buildings
Smash upon the rocks below
Everybody soak in bloody bathtubs
Let it flow!

Words and music by michael johnson
© 2002 zubsongs, ltd.