Come on all you faithful and gather round
for this story that's been firmly screwed in the ground
or a couple thousand days in case you missed
the pitiful spectacle of the solipsist
the thrill ridden times of that brave little shit
who couldn't get good enough but would just not quit
should it sound familiar well for fuck's sake
because we've strung it out about as long as I could take
and I suddenly discover it's not funny anymore
when every door looks like a dead end, every dead drop like a door
the solipsist if you'll excuse is feeling slightly ill
I know he promised you more of he same but really, still
if only and if only we could break outside
jump a freight like old times and take a ride
but the world these days reminds me of a closed tight fist
and there's nothing new under the sun for the solipsist
what
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