Am I out in limbo, less a man than a mannequin? Am I out on a limb, burning daylight pining patiently? A claim's made that intent is a backhanded compliament But I'm taking each step like a fresh faced endeavor. "Hope springs eternal" These are pointless words when they are engraved on a headstone. But whould I recognize a corpse if I was one? (Does it take one to know one?) We can't see our graves as we're in them.
Am I out in limbo, less a man than a mannequin? Am I out on a limb, burning daylight pining patiently? A claim's made that intent is a backhanded compliament But I'm taking each step like a fresh faced endeavor. "Hope springs eternal" These are pointless words when they are engraved on a headstone. But whould I recognize a corpse if I was one? (Does it take one to know one?) We can't see our graves as we're in them.
