Kick the Can

A thousand red warriors reluctantly ordered to begin
A charge that lead to slaughter amid chaotic blackened din
On a desert plain
It is lonely at this stop here with the low arms of light creeping in
We delivered the kiss of death and it was well received
It's lonely and there's no where to go except down
It's lonely and there's no place to go except down
The desert is alone and I've no face to show this dawn
Just heavy, cold light on these eyes, this sorry excuse for eyes
Dear, I dressed up a cactus as a clown
And on his spiny face I painted a frown
His whiskers brush my cheek
I plant the kiss of death, and my lip bleeds
It is lonely and the only direction I know is down
It is lonely and the only place I know is down
The desert is home for a dusty circus clown
"The moth balls," I told you "such a sorry excuse for eyes."
Mom, this is such a sorry excuse for eyes

On a desert plain where I now stand rubbing dusty eyes
With the company of a deaf friend, whose beginnings I despise
On a desert plain
Take what you can, but the reflections scare the shit out of me
Take what you can when you can, why can't I kick the can
There's a pebble inside
And it rattles hopelessly to the empty desert dawn
Oh, but it was well received
It was well received
We were well received, we were well received, really
We were well received
Over there, we were well received
Really