We got no razor blades, we got no victory gin. I got no tiny alcove to hide myself in. To say things weren't good would not be an untruth. But I just met a girl from the anti-sex youth.
You took that last corner too fast. Careened up against the side wall. For a moment everything went black. Woke up inside somebody else's hideaway in a distant place.
There's too much music, too much light. These endless broadcasts into the night. Petty seizures of money and drugs. By some official or unauthorized thugs.