7th Avenue Static

Wear the crown made of thorns on the day I was born By the light of a cold television And I remember the boss in his uniform As he marched from the field of vision Well he didn't come home and it was just us alone The brat and the widowed civilian Then one April night after Ma took her life I fell down the street to oblivion And I took what the dumpsters were giving And I did my best to survive 'Cause I figured that life's for the living While you're alive While you're alive Bring out the gin and the small violins I'm a raging success as a failure And it's colder than hell in this cardboard hotel Which I share with a chronic embezzler