The tongue flicks blame like a flamethrower
each lick burns another scar.

In the backyard of eternity where mistakes can go to breed
there's a need for need and the needing needles me in the backyard of eternity.

I walk barefoot in the sand where once stood a king that ruled the land,
Ozymandias was always planned or is that something you didn't know?

And the roar of the waves drown the sorrow as we drink to old friends for whom
the day always ends
in the registration of another tomorrow.