All of my friends died in a train wreck,
they were on their way over the hill.
The helicopters tried to save 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'd a had it my way,
I'd a been on that train.
Instead I took the bus back uptown
and walked through my neighborhood.
The sun set upon the rooftops,
everything was good.
I met a ghost out on the levee,
His pale face weathered and worn.
I asked him how long he'd been dead for,
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.