Half a pack of cigarettes
Mostly broken or bent
I think of cancer as I put one to my
Cracked lips that long to slake this
Poison lust

Voices spin and resonate inside
Voices spin and resonate inside

This old phone booth shelters me
From these lonely streets
If only God could grant me strength to call you
Just three wards to help me slake this
Poison lust

Voices spin and resonate inside
Voices spin and resonate inside

Esoteric memories
You're an eyesore here
Grab the handle
Twist the blade to break my will