I am a poor, tired boy flailing in an airborne grave
All the tattoos that you gave to me have faded away
But the rest for the reckless will come someday
I’m out of line cuz I’m out of lines
I’m out of lines cuz I’m out all the time
Swinging from the vine like a damned baboon
There is a name for the way that I move
This is the mo’fuckin dance of the doomed
I found your stash let’s go get high
Let’s go hide out behind this grocery store all night
One for me, two for you
Three and four I secretly do
Five makes me so sick
But seven makes this sickness stick
And boy it’s always sticking to me