This country is my canvas ?
I leave paint trails as I go.
I?m painting a picture
That you can only see from outer space.
My bedroom is your sofa,
I take my breakfast on the train.
I?m tired and I?m dirty, and not a second goes to waste.
I?ll be dead but never dying, and I say that with a smile
It?s just my way of trying to be alive.
Well I?ll never get to grey hair
And I?ll never be in the black,
But I can tell stories that most can hardly dream.
Dreaming is a luxury,
Like stopping-staring and beauty sleep.
I?ll stop when I?m finished,
And sleep is for the weak.
Heaven?s in the half-light, and that?s where I reside,
A whiskey and a wry smile ?
I check my vital signs.
And when I?m gone,
The worlds revolve, and life goes on,
So mark no grave,
Forget my name.
If the song remains
And everybody?s got a drink and a smile,
Well, that?s just fine by me.
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