Charles Bukowski - Restless as the Tarantula lyrics

they're not going to let you sit at a front table at some cafe in Europe in the mid-afternoon sun. if you do, somebody's going to drive by and spray your guts with a submachine gun. they're not going to let you feel good for very long anywhere. the forces aren't going to let you sit around f**ing-off and relaxing. you've got to go their way. the unhappy, the bitter and the vengeful need their fix - which is you or somebody anybody in agony, or better yet dead, dropped into some hole. as long as there are humans about there is never going to be any peace for any individual upon this earth or anywhere else they might escape to. all you can do is maybe grab ten lucky minutes here or maybe an hour there. something is working toward you right now, and I mean you and nobody but you.