It is magnificent It is (this) party It is (this) business And it isn't You set me up; I'm leveled now And my shoes are worn and cracked from the wide, hard ground "Put back the pieces and pull yourself together, man We've got so much further to go" (Son, you won't make it) They can find him in broken spirits on a broken bed Dreaming of lead In the basement of a house where dreams go to die The gra** outside my tiny window shows evidence of prying eyes And I still don't care how bad they want you... "Save his soul. Sort his goals." Kneeling by the bedside light each night While I lie in the next room Praying, "Please get me out of here alive." "Oh, you're so morose... And when you fail, I need to know." "We lock the doors at night, for fear that we are in your sights." Son you won't make it