Well someone dies in a crowded street In a painted desert, bones bleach in the heat
Got blasted by the last train, sticky in my seat
Well it grumbles and roars beneath my feet
The taste of too much fun, the smell of burning meat
Well I'm choking on lies and I'm sick of deceit
Got to walk away, maybe admit defeat
I'm not the kind of people that you wanna meet
Gold dust sticks in the greasy shit
Nice people like us don't know
Well it's so hard you might hear, the sound of pain
You can't record it, cos they'll say it again
As words gets twisted, it's gets hard to explain
Doors keep slamming and there's nothing to gain
In the land of the living, nothing remains
Just a scrap of paper and a big blue stain
Persistence is useless, they'll just call you insane
Like if what you hear is no sacred claim
Gold dust sticks in the greasy shit
Nice people like us don't know
I'm not the kind of people that you wanna meet
