man I’m strung out like never before this attritional warfare has shriveled my stones and turned my blood to rust I’m barely fit for the knacker's cart I’m stretched beyond endurance and wearing pretty thin I’m in a place of ghosts and shadows I can’t survive here long whatever the prognosis I don’t think I’m going home
my death songs bud ruby on my lips I’m locked in the organ factory and marked for vivisection but I have dirty blood they have to sort me out before they cut me open to rummage
about some wired quack gave me poisonous pills she said they’d do me good she said they’d get my business fixed but here I am in limbo a million miles from home I’m belting out my death songs I don’t know for how long
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