I got a something for me
And a something for you
And a little more something for
Me because
I'm a selfish son-of-a-b,
But let me have my fun...
Because we ain't making no money,
Ain't receiving no love; only curdled smiles
Half-hugged
By a thin tremor of a heart beat
That takes me right back to the beginning again

Right back to the beginning again,

Right back to the crooked porch and the miss-matched moon

Spilt over by a 2 percent sky

That no one yearns to gaze out to feign epiphany or depth, so
We're left
Out of our minds, out of our pocket, out of ourselves
Where all we've got to gear towards

Is the next pay check.