Been hearing the Nihilist bang on her drum.
No need to speak, cause no words will come.
She’s rejecting all comers, there’s nothing to choose.
There seems there’s no meaning except for the blues.
The smile seems forced, no joy in that face.
Her pain is well known, been making her case.
I can’t see the future, except that it’s near.
I somehow feel better not being so clear.
It’s cold when it’s warm, it’s wet when it’s dry.
And nothings as quiet as a wordless goodbye.