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Last summer my house was infested with flies in a huge way. I don’t like killing bugs, but I started killing these flies as much as I could to try to control the population. And as their numbers seemed to only increase, I even began to kill them with a sort of glee. I felt bad about that. I squirm at the notion that killing one thing is any more acceptable than killing anything else. But at the same time, I’ve killed scores of bugs in my lifetime and even a mouse or two. And while I’m not proud of it, I’d certainly feel worse if I killed a cat or a deer or a person. So as I massacred the flies, I thought about what might happen if, one day, I was crazed and frustrated to the point that killing a fly and killing a friend of mine were both, in my mind, just unpleasant neccessities. After all, I’m sure I had my reasons.

Lyrics

Sitting in the kitchen, counting flies
There’s 44 dead, 55 still alive
And I feel a twinge of remorse
Just keep breathing
Sitting with my old friend passing time
We don’t move. They’re 44 to 55
We’re 1 to 1
I’ll sit here till I’m tired enough to sleep
I cannot see any difference
How can there be any difference?
All or nothing
Or what: do you think you’re better than something?
This could happen to anyone at all
It might happen to anyone at all
Self preservation makes me open my eyes in the morning
And I ain’t gonna apologize too much
Cuz long ago I realized
Someone’s got to die if I’m gonna survive
Well I ain’t proud or nothing
Don’t tell me we’re better than anything