King of a Small World

Sad willow lost the will to weep
And bow to dying swan
Touching 90
Midnight Mid-July
Were crouching by the pond
Taking shots at those unwary
Taking shots at piles of cans
Don't you smear my face paint, honey
Keep that shaky hand
Pressed to your mouth
Out here we're on our own
And yeah, we're probably surrounded
Could call it quits right now
And simply throw the bloody towel in
Heads hung low
Hands in the air
I'm sorry
Hell, I'm sorry
And when they least expect it
We shall take 'em in a blaze of glory
See the future
See the chalk lines In our last embrace
We'll take you home
We'll light your path
Make my day