What's a worm supposed to do when everything's in scraps Torn out hearts and busted parts and nothing left to do Everything I touch just turns to wreckage on this shore Perhaps this who*e should find someone with even less a clue What's in a name? Well this one's looking thinner by the day But it's not given out like lies and ounces of myself So I can go on knowing they can't find me once away So now I'm just a lonely nameless Faceless one night hell What's with the weather lately Always two degrees below Whatever wraps this carca** tripping crossed these empty streets Skin and bones and silver pieces to those in the know The light don't see me as I slip from shadow into sheets
Rain has turned to iron ripping down this rigid face Leaning to the wind as even more wet licks my spine Winding down the staircase in this blue-black rusted place So indigo the filter of the light against my mind It's four a.m. again I'm in the claustrophobic state Consumed by walls swallowing hate and dying for a cause It's never ending nothing that's injected to my soul But I won't trade this icy hole I know the morning draws I need the lusting back and coursing through me Hunger seems so foreign now, foreign to be Thrust beneath this light of "satisfaction's left me dry" So now this wind burnt skull just wants to want to want to want to try Hunger