You run down the strip, down the strip right through me. The rain on the windscreen, blistering the stop sign. Turn in the rubies your mother did buy you.
Between a birth cry. And a death will. There's just houses. So lavish. In your anguish. I can tell. You're chasing your tail. Soaked through sheets. She didn't die quite right.
Feel it in my feet. Feel it in the heat. There's trouble on the street. And the trouble starts to move your way now. Feel it in the heat. Feel it in my feet.
There's fire in her eyes in the altercation. She blames her poverty on her parents generation. She says they sniffed it up their nose now they want our payments.