There's a battle for my soul between God, the devil, and 
rock n roll and when my head hits the sheets my feet will 
hit the ground running to heaven before the devil knows 
I'm dead. This place is a waiting room. Hoarding the 
diseased, waiting their turn. Sicker and sicker I wait 
and wait. I feel my lungs becoming numb. This place is a 
deadly room, culturing disease, waiting to burn. Pacing 
and pacing I wait and wait. I feel my legs becoming numb. 
Doctor I've got this lump in my throat. It's not the 
cigarettes that stunt my growth. There's voices inside my 
head. I need the medicine. Who will win the battle for my 
soul between God, the devil, and rock n roll and when my 
head hits the sheets my feet are tired of running. 
Murdered or the murderers, we're all the same. Kingsmen 
or the poorly dressed, we're pawns in this game.