Lyrics High Street - Verb T, Illinformed

High Street

I’m unhinged, I’m wondering, see this could be a deadly trip
I’m on the high streets and there’s a bunch of pricks getting pissed
Wetherspoons, Revolution, Yates, and the Walkabouts
Talk about a cattle market, more like a slaughterhouse
While you step to me with wine on your breath
Right the fuck out of here is where I want to get
But also want to blow my mind, I’m in self-destruct mode
How would I get home anyway?
Who the fuck knows?
The scene then switches with an anime effect
Next thing, I’m in that same old alley way again
Looking to my left, I see that scabby little wench
In the corner trying to sell me contaminated sex
Someone handed me a bag of purple powder
What did I do with it, people start cursing louder
Fights breaking out, blood, sweat, and piss
Fuck stepping in, man, I should’ve known ahead of time
Next day, I walked past and see a yellow sign
«Did you see anything?»
nothing that I recognize
«How about another?»
«I really shouldn’t»
«Bartender, two more stingers»
«Make it three»
«No, just two please»