Vinegar Vera, packed his bags. And left home to make his mark. Nobody missed him. Because he was back before it got dark. . Vinegar Vera, lying on his bed.
In a skyscraper, in a skyscraper's where I want to live. With no elevator at the top of the stairs where nobody else is. I don't want any trouble in my little bubble.
I get home late but I can't sleep. No message on my machine. The red light eyes me knowingly. And from the note left on my door. I know that I shouldn't call.
Watch my eyes, now, they're spinning round. I'm gonna cut you to the ground. Like bullets from a machine gun. Watch out, 'cause here I come. . I've got petrol on my tongue.