When You Get HereWhat is this all about?
Why don't we all just shout
and rid us of all this doubt
so that we can all get out?
When will it all end?
Why can't we just send a cure to those that won't mend
while we have nothing else to lend?
How would you feel
if you ate a meal
and then discovered
that it wasn't real?
Would you lose your mind
and await some sign?
Or hope that you're fine
when you cross the line?
You see, the light shines
during aweful times,
as bright as loud chimes,
cheerful as my rhymes,
and as sad as all the crimes
that you committed as a mime.
And now you've become so numb
that you can't pay the fines,
and this is more than just dumb,
you've been between the lines,
pretending to have fun
as you fire your gun,
thinking up a stupid pun.
I see you driving down the lane,
forever asking for some pain,
trying to get beat by a cane.
It is hard to say that you're sane.
You await the time to part
from what you think has trapped your heart.
It's like a poisoned dart,
and when you get here,
you'll have a brand new start.
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