Hey, You. Come and sing me a honest song and leave out all the gory details. its true, were just too god damn tired to say something of our own. As the tyrants of the trenches, in the folds of our stomachs. We fight our hunger pains for our busted guts lust for broken bread and our tired heads. Trust that of a woman's touch tonight. Just for kicks, im rolling with the punches.(punch drunk) punch drunk drinking you under the table. Trying to regurgitate some of the pride that you begged for me to swallow. “Masquerades and detonations” that's what she said. I'm not brave enough to be artistic, to be anything you wanted from me. She said “you all had it coming. My name is atom and the ground keeps getting closer”. So we'll watch the fireworks and hold on for dear life. One way, or another we all have to give up everything. Your scream is engineering the breezes in this comotose, metropolis, acropolos. Like rain, falling glass catches the tips of our tounges, severing our feet on the sidewals as we run. Let me keep grinding my teeth, and pissing scarlet floods. I've been running long enough to bother with these cuts. So are you in or out on this one way ticket, care of a falling bomb? You know you're just as well. It's a lose lose situation. You know you're out of time, luck, dreams and aspirations. The ground keeps getting closer, oddly enough.