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Shrug
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Disposable Soul
Poor businessman up in space
Remembered Armani but forgot his face
Now he laughs, knows he can never replace
The disposable soul in his hand
Poor businessman, he phones his wife
And says, 'Honey, I'm sorry, I've signed over my life'
Now she sits alone in late afternoon light
With a disposable soul in her hand
And love is in the air
It's floating out of sight
Don't you worry, it's up there somewhere
Disposable souls travel light
Poor businessman examines a shelf
Of vicarious wonders, but never himself
'Oh well,' he says, 'I've still got my health.
My disposable soul's in my hand.'
Poor businessman reads Kerouac
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And he thinks of the youth he can never get back
Now he has no choice but to trap and attack
The disposable soul in his hand
And love is in the air
It's floating out of sight
Don't you worry, it's up there somewhere
Disposable souls travel light
You can't waste your breath with the notion that death
May be hovering outside your window
Or choke on your robes or spraypaint violent strobes
Of some hitherto uncharted rainbow
In a room full of men we become what we are
Like the melting pot princess our mother
Yes, treason is red, but the reasoning's dead
When disposable souls are uncovered
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