Herschel the Singing God

Making Lives Out of Plane Crashes

Ninety-six dead today, with an 'dditional missing seventeen
At the corner of Lake Michigan, with nothing so we can lean
The people stay inside, and stare their sorrows down
Left searching for the lost, losing what they already found

And they waste away their hours, and they lose their nights of sleep
It's all good enough for getting but not good enough to keep
The gift just keeps on giving, the world keeps going round
And they're still out their searching, nothin' left to be found

The olive branch extends, and another one chops down
Washed away in the tears of those refusin' to hang around
The lives that we affect, and all the people that we meet
Are only worth as much as the potholes in our street

The cycle isn't broken, or at least as far as I know
If there's a chicken with a peck, bring 'em and let em show
Until then I will just remain in position at the pound
Jackie Kennedy was in on it all what they already found

Sigh

Sometimes I don't know what to do with my hands
Or all the things that I'm holding
Often times I'll just give into my mind's own demands
And if my mind said that then he's lying

Heavy sighs and shrugs all around
The story of my life
There's nothing wrong with the something I found
Except for maybe the knife

Chicka ferdy