...
like a ghost in my head
you stand on the corner
where the angels sit
and you think to yourself,
this is it, this is it
..

...
is this air in my lungs
all i can stand
the walls spin
you're paper-thin
from the haze of the smoke
and the mescaline
we ran far and wide
you screamed, you cried
you were always a mess.
like those soft little secrets
that you tell
to yourself
just get on the fucking
train and leave today
..

...
...
..
..