Issue

Stone on stone, brick upon brick. The walls rise high, there's so much to get. Granite gives in, but my teeth start to ache. I've got to learn every word they make. I got to know what the volumes contain. Fill every blank in my hardwired brain. Everything seen and everything read. Sorted on shelves then shed instead. I'll prove once again my memory's strong. I've been beating it senseless for far too long. I stayed up all night, studied till dawn, While my neighbor just shrugged and moved on. There's one way out, one final road. Sooner or later, we all unload. And the black-clad woman with the scythe doesn't Give a damn what you are like. In this life, I've read a thousand labels on Packs, on bottles, on candy wrappers. Never once thought of the holes in my head. Thinking is poison, knowledge is dead. It all disappears when you stop Drawing breath. So why cram it all In before death? There's one way out, one final road. Sooner or later, we all unload. And the black-clad woman with the scythe doesn't Give a damn what you are like. She doesn't care if your brain's a machine or Smoke has turned it cold and obscene. Mother Earth will level us all, The smart and the stupid, the great and the Small. To the worms, We're all just the same. In a cold, Wet grave with no name.