The world is a screaming massacre on a fuzzy AM radio station
Popping bullets on the Grand Central bus stop
Ending existence with a wig and a holy Sharpie
Clothed in iron sadness for the devil madness to drop
Walking miles to steal smiles set in clock dials
Turned celestial sovereignty from the modern hop
Pigtailed with a pillow for suffication
Which suffices more than an armed cop
Toking fluoride pills in the back of a flourishing dumpster bin
Longing for the bells of crack pipes to play rushing songs
Loaded in the man-made loyal loneliness
Looking for anyone to come along
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