TRAGIC For his pleasure he sits sweating The ghost of a man who now haunts himself Hear the steady tick of time like a levee Holding in his troubled mind ⁄ He was proud he was strong Now he's counting back the days to what went wrong A pipe a dream a fearful scream All these FBI agents hiding in your pine trees
Lord it is tragic
Burning faster than a fuse lit from both ends He spirals down ⁄ At the ready with a list of excuses Most of his friends they don't know him now The family's tired and confused He's still trying to make an offer they can't refuse Is he clean is he free Are those FBI agents still hiding in his pine trees?