Burial Games

Kicked a crab apple up the road I hate bein' told, I hate bein' told Why don't you get with the program, son And strap on the vigilante's gun Night is too soon for a fool like you Give the jester and Satan their due All those bastards are one and the same I'm tired a playing them burial games Philip Seymour Hoffman came to me Dragging behind him an olive tree My gums is swollen, my face full a blood Next thing you know, I'll be frozen in mud Playin' burial games I thought I could escape The slavery to rules But slavery is the object of the game I thought I could depart From the hypocrites and tools But even in heaven, everything's the same Fossilized in amethyst I'm little more than a ventriloquist Penning the lines only dummies speak C'mon baby, let's dive off Freak's Peak Still playin' burial games I communed with the spirit of Paul Newman His great escape, his final solution I broke the Ouija Board in half I live to make the oncologist laugh