Crow's feet are ingrained on my face
Try to wash the black off my face, but it's ingrained
Sleepless, in-control spleen
Must have stump tripod in the genes
O'er the poison river locks
Talk treacherous would beat
But still my heart it is rock
Finally going through old parasite gate
But there's a 24-hour clock watch
Sometimes life is like a new bar
Plastic seats, beer below par
Food with no taste, music grates
Once talking was my favourite while
But now I know a conversation's end
Maybe I'm living too long
I see trouble on the streets
Fearing catastrophe to meet
Walk down the devil's boulevard
But still my heart is hard
They say them cellars [were't even/were evil] black