The world is a screaming massacre on a fuzzy AM radio station

Popping bullets on the Grand Central bus stop

Ending existence with a wig and a holy Sharpie

Clothed in iron sadness for the devil madness to drop

Walking miles to steal smiles set in clock dials

Turned celestial sovereignty from the modern hop

Pigtailed with a pillow for suffication

Which suffices more than an armed cop

Toking fluoride pills in the back of a flourishing dumpster bin

Longing for the bells of crack pipes to play rushing songs

Loaded in the man-made loyal loneliness

Looking for anyone to come along