I'm tired of all the Furniture,
starin' at me,
the lamp is up,
all **** night,
the books,
talk so loud the lice,
wake up,
go away,
December,
keep me locked up in a,
shack tower,
and all the,
walls,
say nothing,
while looking at the ceiling,
my spanish leather hand me down shoes,
sit,
in the corner,
with the smell of,
history.