-The Pantaloon-

Your grandpa died when you were nineThey said he had lost his mindYou have learned way too soonYou should never trust the pantaloon

Now it's your turn to be aloneFind a wife and build yourself a homeYou have learned way too soonThat your dad is now the pantaloon

You are tired, you are hurtA moth ate through your favorite shirtAnd all your friends fertilizeThe ground you walkLose your mind

He's seen too many stare downsBetween the sun and the moon in the morning airHow he used to hustle all the peopleWalking through the fairgroundsHe's been around so long he's changed his meaning of a chair nowBecause a chair now,Is like a tiny island in the sea of all the peopleWho glide across the very surface that made his bones feebleThe end can't come soon enough but is it too soon?Either way he can't deny he is a pantaloon

You are tired, you are hurtA moth ate through your favorite shirtAnd all your friends fertilizeThe ground you walkLose your mind

You like to sleep aloneIt's colder than you know'Cause your skin is soUsed to colder bonesIt's warmer in the morningThan what it is at nightYour bones are held together by your nightmare and your frights

You are tired, you are hurtA moth ate through your favorite shirtAnd all your friends, they fertilizeThe ground you walkSo lose your mind

You are tired, you are hurtA moth ate through your favorite shirtAnd all your friends, they fertilizeThe ground you walkLose your mind