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