They were on their way over the hill

The helicopters tried to help them,

But by the time they arrived there was no pain left to kill.

And me, I guess I just got lucky, I was running a little late

'Cause if I'da had it my way, I'da been on that train

Instead I took the bus back up town and walked through my neighborhood

The sun set upon the rooftops, everything was good.



Oh I met a ghost out on the levy,

His pale face weathered and worn.

And I asked him how long he'd been dead for

And he laughed and said, I'm not dead, I'm waiting to be born.

You're so proud of your problems 'cause you never have to

Take responsibility for the stupid things you do

You once were a metaphor but those days are gone

Ever since you became an oxymoron.