"This tightrope just begins to feel like home, as a wind comes rising from a distant storm, and all I know is that tonight I might let go the line...let go the line."
- Max Webster, 1979
lyrics
Doctor, if we may be furtive
There are things that I’m unsure of
"For instance?"
If comes the time to act a thief
Will I resolve to mete out grief
Or crumple like an autumn leaf?
Blown to oblivion
Doctor?
“It’s not my place to counsel crime”
“I don’t intend to waste our time”
Hear me out
To steal a life, or two, or three
A clutch of hoods, of thieves like me
Just another rogue in the gallery
Killer whales, vampire bats,
Strangler figs, pedophile mushrooms
I wouldn’t touch the innocent – whoever they are
We take lesser lives just by waking up
So what am I scared of?
“To harm your own, to kill your kind”
“You'd only kill yourself you’ll find”
But if I’m willing to kill maybe I deserve to die
So who am I scared of?
Everyone gets what they deserve
But what’s ‘deserve’? A man-made term
Let me ask you
Is there anything more preposterous
Than two agreeing, nodding heads?
Is the Bible true because it says it is?
Doctor, please encourage me
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