Get lost in the dead of the night where once I lived on Grand Street
Deaf from Chucks on bones crushed white
New Brooklyn bows before me
Soak it all in and let it run deep
Glory in delusion
I can picture us
Waltz in the ruins of this wilted gray contusion
Sometimes, when she's far and I'm drunk
I clutch her like a compa**
Never thought of being anything but quixotic and self-conscious
Some ache to guide your hand, to pull out of the socket
I'm the cricket that lets you burn while I smolder in your pocket
You're in my fat
I store you there to keep me warm in frigid air
I need my smack
You're in my veins
Free the Jew they kept in chains
I'm suffused with all you are
I'll always be a ba*tard star
You're in my heart
You're in my heart
Could it be in our wa*k of shame that we're clutching the same member?
Don't you ever pretend to smile and find you've actually done it?
Now you're informed; we kinda run it and that's just fine
Plummet beak-first into acid washed entitlement
You might just find a socialist feeding off the fumes of an aging pop-punk vocalist
So destroy our first LP if you know what's good for me
You're in my fat
I store you there to keep me warm in frigid air
I need my smack
You're in my veins
Free the Jew they kept in chains
I'm suffused with all you are
I'll always be a ba*tard star
You're in my heart
You're in my heart