The Dead Girl

The dead girl mopes through a dead scene

With a cross-stitched lip she's picking at the seams

She's got bravado she says she's been

Featured in a few magazines

Outside the bar Hank is straddling a police car

His fingers are purple and numb from circling crow bar

Well, twenty-four years have made it clear

That things ain't ever what they appear

Now, now, he says, "I won't be going easily

No, I won't be going lightly

And I won't be going peacefully

No, I won't be going innocently"

A sweet drink spiked with a speed ball

A twenty foot ladder and a ninety foot wall

Dark shadows are gathering

And swaggering down the hall

And I know, I won't be going easily

No, I won't be going lightly

And I won't be going peacefully

No, I won't be going cleanly