Torn Between Suicide and Breakfast Hank Williams III

Holy dogs in the temple of broken glass
Mississippi death threat, mississippi dead flesh
Dressed out like a deer in a wedding dress
On my house, wrecking line

I love it when you beg
Enslavement brings a headache of majority
And headaches of minority
Walking and working, pushing long



Using a manual can opener
The whole of nothing, a whole for something, a complete
Nothing it looks like I want to quit
I'm going back to that room, give me a call sometime

Wet sister, it's drug lord, slum lord, and strung out and

Dug up, turn on, tuned out and burn out and break out
The throat god of no more alcohol to vomit
I lose myself on Sundays, Vietnam, and Kansas
Trench war, silent preminitions
Preaching to the end of time
The north position, idealogy
Written in chalk, out loud on the
Back of a stop sign