Newton Was a Prophet [sean]

Mr. Isaac Newton, why do you always give the hard truths?
I lay out on my bed with my head under the pillow.
Every time I lift my head up, gravity brings it back to earth.
And I’m just too tired to see the good in the ugly and the ugly in the good.

Somewhere downtown on the busy side of Winnipeg,
I got an apartment and tried to make the ends meet for a while.
This girl, she had long hair and one of those old-time movie star smiles.
That girl, she was the best kisser that ever stepped foot into the world.

Oh it’s true what they say that for every thing done, there’s an equal and opposite reaction;
I laid my head down at night without joy and with no satisfaction.
Listening to Cobain and Duritz raging and wailing ‘cause life’s got no meaning;
I spent last night laying awake and observing the ceiling.

There’s a newspaper on my table and a fork in my hand,
And there’s a waitress; she’s asking me about my breakfast plans.
And there’s a waitress; she’s asking me about my dinner plans.
And there’s a waitress; she’s asking me about my supper plans.

…but I just want a friend.

And there were nights of old-time movies (playing on a makeshift movie screen),
But here I am again looking for another pass-the-time routine.
The smoke rises and I lose another game of penny poker, it sets and the night is done.
We’re singing “blessed is he who lives fast, leaves a good looking grave, and dies young.”

Twelve bells ring out and I am done.

“Meaningless, everything is meaningless.”