Been seein' dead people in cars
Lookin' alive as any motorist on 175
Or cuttin' down the boulevard
With the abandon of a soul untethered to this gravel
They're wearin' faces that I know
I've seen them all inside my dreams, or through peepholes
Some have names that I remember
But only when they pass me by
How is it, my friends, that when we meet our end
We don't get ourselves a time trial
There's to be and to have been, each a fickle proposition
We're too present to pass and yet we're gone before we live
En route to the morgue
Gonna press that bleary-eyed pathologist
With questions on the cause of expiration
And do you believe in ghosts
Given the situation
He soothes me with an anecdote
About a Scottish gorge
They don't know why so many dogs jump into it each year
And now we're getting beers
Discussing how sometimes we can't explain
The reasons why during the drive we often swerve into the other lane
How is it, new friend, that when we meet our end
We don't get ourselves a time trial
There's to be and to have been, each a fickle proposition
And when the gorge yells out fetch, we obey and run to it
And I don't know where everything is
But I know this
The world is a virgin
It might not know where everything is
But it knows that it's got it
I know that I've got it somewhere here
It's somewhere here
How is it, my friends, that when we meet our end
We don't get ourselves a time trial