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| There's a kid within my head with a hatchet to my nerves Rebellion fills the songs he sings and this much I deserve With every hack at synaptic gaps, there's another to the hairline His freckled skin hides an angry side and even though he wants me dead I'd kill myself to keep him alive Flat out, motionless A statue growing mold Around me rotates a world with no control The forest of my childhood is now a filthy parking lot What isn't asphault is barely connected by deserted grown-in stonewalls And therein lies a home, he stumbles these streets alone Walking through the backyards, circling the brainstem, left unto his own Motionless, a statue growing mold Around me rotates a world with no control I know I'll never make it by myself But he believes, he believes in one more swing Twenty-three atop the peak of nothing guaranteed Let's hope at thirty-five my friend inside is still up there and still alive I'll pack my bags and run away Outrun the axe another day |
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