"Hear that sound? That's the drive shaft" Rather, it's a life raft That you and your wife are flouting What's that about, the silence shouting?
When is something dead? Do you know it in your head? Your mind? Something left behind? Perhaps if we could just rewind We'd find the answer
Love, laughter, principally pain, Are all consequences of the insane Its archaic definition we all know But never googled, so we don't really know
Shouting silence, so deafening in the car Past the idiots and the ******* traveling far To our right and our left, you Keep critizing til we've all left you
All on the precipice of that becoming Me, your wife, your children, yourself We're all left with that one thing: Watching you in your hell
But there's no writhing, just acceptance No attempting to better, just acceptance No trying of any kind, just complacent No emotions being expressed, just complacent
How is anything real to you? Where is your baseline? Can love be real to you? Can it be experienced at the same time
As nonexistence and complacency? Is there anything in between Those two terrible extremes? It's where his life is to be
And his wife and their marriage as it dies In the car ride to the son's house with their other son behind The driver seat where the driver shaft yells out And speaks louder than either of your marital doubts