I'm destined to be bruised
I walk out in the moonlight
in far-scrapped yesterday's shoes
I read the news
that a body like mine
is born to
be buried in junk
I'm caught in a rut +
trapped in a funk
like a multicolour skunk
I repel
my fairweather friends
I'm in hell
imagining the end
here's what it comes down to
I feel magical inside
maybe I'm dillluded
a victim of my pride
but sometimes when I'm on my own
I just can't help but think
surely I'm worth more than this
circling the sink
one foot in the drain
leaning to salvation
liberation on the brain
what's my pain?
you know it
I bet you've felt it too
I'm dreaming of a getaway car
of an escape pod
to somewhere in the sun
a hotrod
a vehicle of destiny
I'm trying to make
the best of me +
if I spend another
fucking second
where I am
floating in a tin can
marooned in the wild blue
can you predict
just what I'll do?
Here's a clue
it starts with a gun +
ends with you
