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The Outs
I'm willing to bet you're the sorriest kind
Losing your bills as well as your mind
You lay there, forgotten, scratching your eyes
Among trash and vomit as the hours fly by
But here comes the taxman with a hand full of scrounge
Stashing it away as he comes back around
You wander and flee with a bottle to soothe
Drink another shot to all you have to lose
The streets are brutal and the people estranged
The city's polluted by what it contains
The elements keep coming and keep falling down
They're ruthless and stubborn and want us all to drown
And once more you're wasted, and thrown on your ass
Ignored by the populace as they all wander past
You stare at the haze above and beyond
Suppressing the feeling until all of it's gone
And still you say that you know what life's about
Though all you've ever known, is the Outs.
