The Pantaloon

Your grandpa died when you were nine
They said he had lost his mind
You have learned way too soon
You should never trust the Pantaloon
Now, it′s your turn to be alone
Find a wife and build yourself a home
You have learned way too soon
That your dad is now the Pantaloon

You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends fertilize the ground you walk
Lose your mind

He’s seen too many stare-downs between the sun and the moon in the morning air
How he used to hustle all the people walking through the fairgrounds
He′s been around so long he’s changed his meaning of a chair, now, because a chair, now
Is like a tiny island in the sea of all the people
Who glide across the very surface that made his bones feeble
The 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 hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends fertilize the ground you walk
Lose your mind

You like to sleep alone, it′s colder than you know
‘Cause your skin is so used to colder bones
It′s warmer in the morning than what it is at night
Your bones are held together by your nightmares and your frights

You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends, they fertilize the ground you walk
So lose your mind
You are tired, you are hurt
A moth ate through your favorite shirt
And all your friends, they fertilize the ground you walk
Lose your mind