 Yeah, here we go for the hundredth time. Hand grenade pins in every line. Throw them up and let something shine. Throwing out of my f***ing mind. Filthy mouth, no excuse. Find a new place to hang this noose. String me up from atop these roofs. Line it tight so I won't get loose. Truth is, you can stop and stare. Blur myself out and no one cares. Thug a trench out, lay down there with a shovel up out of reach somewhere. Yeah, someone pour it in. Make it a dirt dance floor again. Say your prayers and stomp it out when they bring that chorus in.