|   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		A Cornucopia of 
        Pain | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Well I woke up 
        feeling small | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Beat my head 
        against the dirt | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		But it never 
        seems to harm enough | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Smashed my 
        fingers in the door | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		But it always 
        leaves me | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Jonesing  
        for the kind of pain | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		The world can 
        spill | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		I left my house 
        today | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		in search of all 
        the sorrow I could get | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		A cornucopia of 
        pain | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		A cornucopia of 
        viciously excruciating pain | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		So I went out 
        with a frown | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Staring at the 
        hopeless cement boxes all about. | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
          
		
		I'm so sad and 
        fucking old  | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Everything they 
        said to me | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		Never made it 
        through the din | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		I'm heading home 
        tonight | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		In search of all 
        the horror | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
        
		That I could get | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
        
         
        
		A cornucopia of 
        pain  | 
          | 
      
      
        |   | 
          | 
          | 
      
      
         | 
        
              
         
        Copyright 2004 Jay Wasco  | 
         |