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