Pistols and pens
Poor boy, feels like I ain't got no friends
I wake up nervous
Sunday is gloomy
Eyes on the sidewalk
Look right through me
I hear myself breathing
Trying to focus
Goodbye Babylon
Wandering hopeless
The drifter
singing the lament to the non-trier
the isolation makes me wanna set myself on fire
But I don't live anywhere
Black Angel
Carry me down...

respect to

Buck 65 - The Suffering Machine -