get up son hit you head like a drum

weeds are all grown in vain

too much time I got too much time

living in a waste of space

take yourself don't break yourself

its all gonna be ok

get used to it don't lose your head

its all gonna be the same

she knows send  a message to her

she knows get a message to her





kill it dead but don't let it die there's a price sitting on your head

face it down don't turn it around

unless you wanna be where you been

take yourself don't break yourself

its all gonna be ok

get used to it don't lose your head

its all gonna be the same

she knows send a massage to her 

she knows get a massage to her





spell out her name in cigarettes and knives tryin to see her

get her a massage on a dirty window tryin to see her





I've been stripping the days off the sidewark and pavement

the walls are all white and we're painting them whiter for the zig zag manline my radio's plastic and I've tasted the fodder of a saccharine ending 

day job pay phone one in a trillion and the typecast heathen with the future all rancid 

something to believe

something to believe