| You ain’t the same at all
|
| Melt down face the wall
|
| The young child chewin his leg with them pendulous eyeballs make you call like
|
| Whats the price on a eighth? |
| your star prize awaits
|
| Let it prize your face apart hows that blood in your saliva taste?
|
| Now, whole lot of booze in the system, whole lot of suits outside
|
| Hole in your head so big you could fit a whole town in a ditch that size
|
| An, you were outdated you were outnumbered
|
| I was out raving, out with the drunkards
|
| You were in a little tin box all sprawled out sprouting a dark grey fungus
|
| You and your endless rehearsals, whats my line?
|
| Stop eating them pills your eating all day they’re eating your mind
|
| Sudden flash of a thousand dead children little man yells 'roll cameras'
|
| Flash back to a ball on set with these withered old actors
|
| Nice little husk your dragging
|
| Nice little swing you built
|
| Feds at the front door banging
|
| That spider will spin you silk
|
| That’s what that cotton ball does to ya
|
| Makes you roll like deaths best customer
|
| You can score the whole thriller between the scratch marks on your drained out
|
| jugular
|
| Nah, you and your doctor, your and your poisons
|
| You and your schedule of endless appointments
|
| You and your jailer, you and your tomb
|
| You and your shrine to a script faced doom
|
| She still sits in a waiting room
|
| With her ears in her right hand grating em
|
| Mute button worn away screaming old man cello-taped to her cranium
|
| Drenched on a park bench howling
|
| Fat little feds in a toy car
|
| Mile high reptiles out there prowling
|
| Hold that thought, brick for a brain, come lets talk
|
| I caught her at kings cross squeezing her tears in a tall glass feeding em all
|
| to a bright red corpse
|
| Weird, these days I ain’t powdered up
|
| Twitch of a nerve, blink of a an eye, call of the wild, loud as fuck |