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She keeps on running her, mouth
What is she saying?
I don’t know what she’s talking about
I’m doing all I can to shut her out
I’m about to get the hell out my own damn house
Move into a one bedroom studio apartment
On the other side of town
Where I don’t have to hear the same old squeaky sound
Buy a twin bed with a pillow with room for only one head
My nerves are bad I don’t get high no more
I’m wishing that, that wasn’t so
Maybe a drink to wet my throat
Bad habits creeping up on me
Calling me homie
Give me a pass I’m treading through
Dangerous territory
Uncultivated land
I’ll till it with my bare hands
Everyday a different story
It’s not raining
It’s my tears pouring down
To drown out the sound of
Shots
