I'm an armchair warrior
trying to sell my soul
to the undesirable myriads
soaked in stains and oil.

Curl up with your coffee cups
(now children)
Curl up with your cigarettes
Take your vice and leave this place
No less weary less.

I'm a sellout to this
yes I'd sell out to a fish
If he'd give me a dime bag
and a paper.

I will sellout to you
I will sell my soul tonight
For a loudspeaker
And a deaf audience.

My life is a mess
I shouldn't cry less
I should really embrace the tears.
But with each coming year

I have come to fear
That I will drown in these tears.
And this beautiful mess
And all this crazyness

Is really beginning to drag.
I'm tired of pieces
Ignorant of puzzles
Give me a ******* cigarette.