| In the night, in the chair
|
| He sits there, he sits tight
|
| No more cans, no more crime
|
| See the place, see the time
|
| You never know
|
| He walks light, dont know how
|
| Maybe now, in the night
|
| Oh, I know, yes I know
|
| Theres no chat
|
| Hes for show
|
| You never know
|
| Sees the place and tries to get the time
|
| Hes slowly slipping into the slime
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| Cant inject into his veins
|
| Blood and guff ooze out and stain
|
| Cares not that he really bleeds
|
| Death not hell is what he needs
|
| Sees the place, checks the time
|
| Some other place, some other time
|
| You never know
|
| Slipping up and down his writhing side
|
| His eyes begin to ponder pride
|
| Subjective pics of misled youth
|
| Before him lies the dreadful truth
|
| Undignifiled, insignified
|
| His wrist on to the razor slides
|
| You never know |