Between the demons in my head and the harlots in my bed,
I don't know when I'll ever get any rest.
A plague upon my mind, time after time,
What I seek is never what I find.
They beckon, I call, got my back against the wall,
My best interests are left to fall.
Mind over matter but my minds been battered,
Come to realize that nothing really matters.
Sit in the dark and listen to the chatter,
While my body withers and the rich get fatter.
Maybe it's all just a string of bad luck,
Maybe I've become to comfortable with getting fucked.
Maybe I should lay down in front of a mack truck,
Maybe I should stack bodies into my trunk.
It doesn't have to be all blood and guts,
But I'm taking these loose ends and tying them up.
No man is an island but bet I'll try,
Live on the farm till the day I die.
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