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