5,841 Days
© 2006
Alan P. MacLeod SOCAN
Five
thousand eight hundred and forty one days
Five thousand eight hundred and forty one days
I’m
just takin’ notes
You talk and I give smokes
‘cuz I wanna’ know the why oh why
you caused all of them to die
and I’ll catch coin, by telling’ the world
where the hell the world, went wrong.
Five
thousand eight hundred and forty one days
you have been on this earth and avoided His gaze
except for now and then and then and now
and really now it's reasonable to wonder how
you could have avoided His long-trusted ways
in your five thousand eight hundred and forty one days.
Five thousand eight hundred and forty one days.
Some mothers’ idiot son
Just a kid, with ammo and gun
Whose eyes glaze over telling me
How bodies fell in your killin' spree
So we locked you up as a deviant child
who ain't a little child, no more.
Chorus
You don’t care what ya’ did
We’ll get the last swing at you kid
‘Cuz ya’ got no dirt under you nails
‘Cuz locking you up in a room has failed
You went and stirred it up again with some nice girl
Who didn’t stay nice, for long
And on
his Day. I was there.
He said: "Don’t bother with those Last Rites,
now that you've strapped me in the chair.”
And I was there. On his Day.
He said: “Now all you freaks just
Back away. Hmmm. Back away.
Like you’ve done for
five thousand eight hundred and forty one days.”
Five thousand eight hundred and forty one days
five thousand eight hundred and forty one days
just like him, I got nothin’ good to say.