Tonight might be the night, higher than a kite
Taking flight, out of sight burning gas
Smoking stress waiting for panic passed
Dreams melting into dripping glass
Time worn into candle wax
Picking up the slack, pennies in a stack
Light a cigarette, blow it out your back
Things in the dark quietly click and clack
Pager chirping in the encompassing black
Excuses lined up on the rack, smashed into the cracks
Walking on pins and tacks, following well worn tracks
Weave your set of facts blindly, dare you to find me
Unwinding, double timing down rabbit holes, smoking bowls
Collection of spines and skulls, shining piles of trolls tolls
Man slaughters man by rows, right hand ruthlessly brutal
You're sweeter than the frosting on a toaster strudel
Wait around another minute you'll see, my plastic artillery
For whom does the bell toll my g? It tolls for thee, it tolls for thee