It's been a long, dark, lonely hall. Between the cracks I can read the scrawl. It's written down in a crooked rhyme. That sold me out before my time. .
I caught you stealing things you knew I'd give. But nothing seems to matter in your life. I come around to when I go to miss. But nothing seems to matter here tonight.
I've got an ugly liver from drinking too much. I've got painful sliver from thinking too much. Oh I don't want to go on livin' in this rut. Oh I think I'll go out and build me a hut, but.