You're running around with your head cut off
And your circus personality
Your face is ****** and sad, with those dark rings around your eyes, and all the years you've seen have made you plain curmudgeony
Your silt pockets run dry to the earth, their face is laced with ******* and dirt
Your mace head is running wiry with hair, and you wouldn't be surprised if you found a rats nest in there
You've been casted a role, that you forgot how to play, from all the years of half-assed hearsay
You said you'd give me your word, and chilled with guilt, you fiddled and farted away