You'd be better if you had a steady gig.
You could tend bar,
be the one who turns the pig
over leaning flames and
embers red and low
as inspired by our neighbor volcano.
You'd be better off not working anymore.


Come on don't you wish you never tried?
You'd be better with your ankles tied.
Without death what is longevity?
Hawaii.


Angel hair, you said,
complaining to the chef.
Tie it back and throw away
whatever's left.
You'd be better pulling nails
out of the walls,
I'd be better jumping off of waterfalls.


But the office is a great big hug,
bars of light, the endless crew cut rug.
You call this an anniversary?
Hawaii!

Scent of doom came in the room
the talk shut off way too soon.
Passing time makes grit and grime
to keep you busy later.


The cameras are hanging
you're wearing a lei,
there's no need to move
for the rest of the day.
Arms getting soft
and the skin's coming off.
You're as tan as the past
and only hours away.


Get off your Parnassus, flee your Xanadu,
later El Dorado, none of you are true.
Heaven's cloudy, baby.
Hell is just too hot.


You'd be better getting on the plane.
Who knows when
we'll have the chance again?
Just like everywhere I've ever been.
Every man's an island, I'm seven.