Tables have turned, tables have turned, tables have turned
You've already made your bed, now sleep on it---

I slept at the feet of two deadheads the night that you died
And three years later I still feel gooey inside

1.
Deported from the party of twelve and welcomed home
The light from your crystal chandelier guided me along
Reduced to a lighthouse outlining violent bathtub foam
I ride on the wings of he, I prefer to travel alone

It's great to see you're doing so well, but Kevin, can you play me the songs I came to hear?

And there a ghastly shadow formed and captured the tall
Black silhouette of figure who's head shank into a small
Bullet sized hole imprinted in the apartment drywall

2.
Easter eve when we got stoned
Dead and buried under stone
Eighteen was a year I've tried to forget
Easter Day when I woke
The cave was full and blocked by stone
Nobody rose, nobody spoke
But the vessel and the rose
Framed in gold couldn't decompose
Hanging high above the green carpet that burned my hands and feet

Maybe I'm wrong and you're right

3.
He pulled out a box of old cassettes from his father's car
Unraveled the tapes and stretched them out across the lawn
And time, neither bent nor straight, can't replay like magnetic tape
You're left to wonder and wallow at the hands of a sick machine

It's great to see you're doing so well, but hey Wayne, can you play me the songs I came to hear?

Full moon, winter nova, I still shiver to your songs
July heat the woods on paul spring parkway where I fucked in my car
Change is a necessity that isn't necessarily kind
But death is a sweet release---
the greatest drug, the highest high.

4.
Easter Day when I woke
The tomb was full and blocked by stone
Nobody rose, nobody spoke
And now a picture of Marlese
Is tacked to cork as the centerpiece
Silver hair like the oxidized tea set
In a cherry cabinet
Contained the most unusual smells
potpourri scented the green carpet that burned my hands and knees
Maybe I'm wrong and you're right
I wouldn't be surprised
It wouldn't be the first time
I wouldn't be surprised
Would it be the last time?

All those pesky little things that don't dissipate with age
The farther you run they always seem to catch back up
If denial is a sin does ours count as one or two?
All the bad in me comes from you.