Cycles

Cycles of slow mess Filthy in my best uniform Smelling of tainted perfume Crawling out the wreckage soon Earthquake come along and open up the town Spare us this disaster take the crooked home as well Just take a breath and freeze beneath The coldest month so long it seems But tomorrow never looked so good Until there summer stood And all, and all All the junkies gotta starve and fall, and fall Life is like a needle in your arm Fall to your grave There are chills that don't leave All torn inside Life will kill you slowly You can blame it on your mother if you want too But I don't so let there be peace praise More sets of cycles Cycles of slow mess Filthy in my best uniform Smelling of tainted perfume Hollow out the wreckage sooth Earthquake come along and open up the town Spare us this disaster cut the crooked home as well All you can say There are chills that don't leave There are chills that don't leave There are chills that don't leave Until the end you suffer cycles