Huddled on across the street. Getting cold when we suddenly meet. Must have been a couple of years. And I feel nothing but a cold, cold fear. . 'Cause now Im looking at a face that belonged to my mother.
Nightfall and his axe is gettin dull. Wanna burn a candle wanna burn it in a scull. Writin' letters to a friend. Stains of make-up smeared out on the hand-made smokies end.
Little man, youre very small. Little man, youre very small. No ones gonna hear your call. No ones gonna hear your call. . Little man, your eyes are red.