We know that time is not on our side
So you don't have to tell us.
We know it's going to run out on us
And leave us standing in our bathrobes
In the kitchen with a Dear John letter
And we'll be alone for a few minutes before it hits us.
But you think we're so naïve,
Like we're going to live forever, or at least
Until they make us into statues.
And, you say, we're idiotic.
So we are, I guess
Because we keep on living like we've got a right to.
And what do you do?
We're not so naïve as you think,
And she hasn't left yet.
She's still in the shower and she'll be getting dressed for tonight,
And she isn't going anywhere because we'll kill her first.
And there you are sitting in your rocking chair
With a smug look on your face
And you're thinking we're naïve.