When it's just the roaches left
We'll be slumped in our chairs
We'll have really done it this time
It will be cold but we will not complain
We will carry the pain in our chests
When it's just the roaches left
When it's just the roaches left
I bet they'll know it
We'll have really done it this time
It will be warm but we will not want for change
They will crawl through my window
They will dirty my hardwood floors
And they will like the dark
And the silence
And the eventual feast
And they will find my throw
And they will leave it there
And they will find my rags
Oh the things that they will know
Oh the things that they will know
They will carry me old out doors
Carry me old out doors