Dude in Exile

Ker plop was the sound of the tin cup Filled with a bullet blood pooling in my feet And Johnny knows it itching in my throat Slobbered word code but Connor's roof fan is still laughing though Max's brass knuckles slide but couldn't help but drag I operate the pod racer with just a single hand Chris it would be best to reflect on your faults But double down like me cause I'm so full of salt The mirror is broken but I still hear Connors chuckle Echoing through my hollow husk structure made of rubble Sipping on the truth hot caffeinated and brown The irony is that it comes whole not ground