A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hoping for a heart-attack,
Tonight the windows are watching,
The streets all conspire,
And the lamppost can't stop crying,
If I could fly high above the world,
Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity,
Or would I see hungry lover homicides,
Loving brother suicides,
And Ally Ally Oxenfrees,
Who pick a side and hide?
The world is scratching at my door,
My morning paper's got the scores,
The human interest stories, and the obituary, o yeah
Cockroach naps, rattling traps,
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
In my alley around the corner,
There's a wino with feathered shoulders,
And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back,
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like
thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperados scornful of living
The world is scratching at my door,
My morning paper has the scores,
The human interest stories, and the obituary, o yeah
Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back,
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why Hemingway cracked,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
Life is the crummiest book I ever read,
There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots,
Pictures to shock, and characters an amateur would never dream
up
compositores: BRETT GUREWITZ
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