What is so wrong about robbing the poor you put hope in their bellies
And your manifesto through their front door.
You inherited tough love, a belligerent kind.
You were the platinum infant so it must be difficult to be the golden child.
While your friends kill themselves from living too hard
Do you really want to sit, sing and play your guitars
To a society of card-carrying bleeding hearts.
You play in the places that humanity hates
They’re claustrophobically spacious, they’re specially designed to raise the heart-rate.
And then like a prophet with improbable poise, you’re propping up little people
You’d probably drop them in a second for the big boys.
While you’re friends sit around and discuss their hang-ups
And your contemporaries have to piss into cups
And confess that it’s their powerlessness that corrupts.
Solitude is my enemy and my best friend
Life in the enclosure isn’t all that bad
I’m using muscles that I didn’t even know I had
Finally I’ve found somebody just like me
I need to reassess whether I like myself
Solitude is my enemy and my best friend.
While your friends…
