Žodžiai dainai: Itchyhead. Other. Wallets Made Of Lead.

I've been sleeping by a sidewalk,
on a fire escape,
and the smell of rotten chinese food,
is keeping me awake.
Cause across the street a vendor sells Wallets Made Of Lead.
The insignia it read,
that in the process love is dead.

And Im only here for the day,
but I'd like to stay the week.
And some people seem to utter things that I just can't speak.
It's a manifested carnival that's ruined by police.
Anarchy floods the streets.
Like the manhole covers see.

As the rain beats down upon my head.
The world just waves at me.
I've been sitting here since infinity,
and now I can finally leave.
Leave the world and I'm never coming back.

Just two weeks before my checks were cashed,
and misery was a book.
Now my writings scribbled on the walls.
Do you see what it took?
It turned democracies to travesties,
cause I kept looking back.
Looking back into the past,
like Alice throught the looking glass.

And I sit in front of my window.
A ghetto sceond floor porch.
And I've finally found some paper,
now a story is in store.
It's about a little boy who ate,
nothing but pork.
His death was a show,
because the plot said to explode.

I'm living off of vicodin.
CauseI guess I'm just too weak.
My words are heavy,
my tongue is tied.
No I can't fucking speak.

And the rain beating is slowly blinding me

(Thanks to Andrew for these lyrics)