I see the sword of Damocles
is right above your head.
They're trying a new treatment
But radiation kills both bad and good,
So to cure you, they must kill you.
Now I've seen lots of people
die from car crashes or drugs.
Last night on 33rd street
I saw a kid get hit by a bus
But this drawn out torture
over which part of you lives
To do you they must kill you
The sod of Damocles above your
That mix of morphine and dexedrine,
It kills the pain and keeps you up,
But this guessing game has its own rules,
the good don't always win
is hanging above your head
It seems everything's done
though things don't seem fair.
But there are things that
Some other world that we don't know about,
I know you hate that mystic shit.
It's just another way of seeing
that gleans above your head.
