There is no soap box, Jack
Only thoughts you suppress.
All your dreams from above,
They come tumbling down.

We get high in old houses,
Smoke cigarettes and drink coffee.
Finding new things to steal (we really have to, honey)
Running out of things to sell

You've got eyes just like diamonds,
Like mountain lions in a garbage can.
Stalk around the neighborhood.
Creeps asking neighborhoods, "what's good"

Do you find it hard
to remember
what you did last night?

And if you slip on the cracks,
On your cross you'll confess.
And your new schemes for love,
Oh I'm cowering now.