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Wouldn't it be nice?
Wouldn’t it be nice I think
to lay on the grass with you
It’d be like some spring picnic
watching clouds and birds go by
listening to those passing trains
laughing together when it rains.
Its hard to live through this shit
when ghosts of you dance around
haunting what’s left of my beer
damaged brain.
There’s no one here to listen
you’re lying in that pink coffin still
you were the best of my friends
and if I could only talk to you
I’d pick out a coffin of my own
perhaps I’d put a bullet in my head
just to lay in the grass
with you
again.
