Weird Dreams, Corpse City

Amongst the cans of piss and pigeon shit Throwing up sick and throwing up fists Don't we all live for this The corpse city Like a moth to a flame The light at the end is an oncoming train Shut down on the high street Avoiding every glance I meet Don't think I'll ever leave The corpse city A pint of gold a friend to drink it with I fell and we failed ourselves good meaningful chat the time to get comfortable in the twisted metal of a drunk driving wreck an understanding look in the eye the greatest gift the embrace goes on longer than expected it's all silence because it always is and it speaks when it's needed my whole life I've been off by one slumping in the Scablands the end of everything is coming with me Like a moth to a flame The light at the end is an oncoming train Lots the think, nothing to say I don't think we'll make it through another day