Oh no my friend I'm not here anymore.
Only my mail arrives here on Tuesday,
But even then it rarely ever finds me.
I've faded into the patterns on my wall.
All I see are endless fields of grass.
Maybe they end somewhere (or maybe I'm walking in a circle.)
I'll probably never get there.
People these days are ordering egg'n-a-half omlets,
They want the crust cut off their toast.
You'ld think that somewhere out there
Some orphan has half an egg and some crust
To be thankfull for, but you'ld be wrong.
We made so many coffins this year,
We also mad planters out of bomb shell casings,
But the plants keep dying in them.
So I say, "It must be the water."
But I know it's not the water.
Even though the water is poisoned,  
I know it's not the water.
Plants just don't want to grow for us anymore.