A Plea For Purging Room For The Dead
There's a battle for my soul between God, the devil, and
rock n roll and when my head hits the sheets my feet will
hit the ground running to heaven before the devil knows
I'm dead. This place is a waiting room. Hoarding the
diseased, waiting their turn. Sicker and sicker I wait
and wait. I feel my lungs becoming numb. This place is a
deadly room, culturing disease, waiting to burn. Pacing
and pacing I wait and wait. I feel my legs becoming numb.
Doctor I've got this lump in my throat. It's not the
cigarettes that stunt my growth. There's voices inside my
head. I need the medicine. Who will win the battle for my
soul between God, the devil, and rock n roll and when my
head hits the sheets my feet are tired of running.
Murdered or the murderers, we're all the same. Kingsmen
or the poorly dressed, we're pawns in this game.
