On My Way To Work

There's a car parked where the block begins
 And these people singing praises
 Say it's all because of him
 And there's a bird perched on a frayed wet wire
 And his voice sings out for a lover
 But it's covered by the choir
 Of voices reaching way beyond the rafters
 With devotion they perform these sacred tasks
 They cross themselves and offer up their checkbooks
 Slight suffering is not too much to ask
 Besides, we all are making money
 And we're all fucking alone
 And we don't know what we're doing
 Maybe just buying us some hope
 Because we know that we are lonely
 Well, yeah, lonely that's for sure
 And the older ones are coughing
 Yeah, the older ones they're dying
 Maybe we're all dying
 ♪
 I pass a graveyard on my way to work
 Today I saw two dozen white roses
 On a fresh new mound of dirt
 And I wondered about the occupant
 When the darkness finally swallowed him
 Was he calm and content?
 Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing
 Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed
 Crying out loud for someone to help him
 Then collapsing on his back all pale and dead?
 Maybe it's me who's this unstable
 Always obsessed about the end
 Why can't I let what happens happen
 And just enjoy the time I spend?
 Oh, how I wish it was that easy
 But when there is no point to anything
 You know it gets a bit confusing
 Why it is that I keep going?
 Why is it that we keep going?