your flesh is brackish and bruised and covered in melancholy
it seems like you work in the coal mines with those oil stains printed all over you
i am worried that you might never return home after you were swooned by some blond chick (pawn) at the rowdy city bar and dazzled her with your charm
i am starving from the core because of a perfidious promise
licking up the crumbs and rummaging through the schemes
locked and loaded like a rifle
but you know i would never fire
cause i am the coward
who fell for your clownery in the first place