An ax wound to the head
My addiction has been fed...

I walk through the halls
Of my own private prison...

Tiptoeing down the vacant street
I see him drumming to an unknown beat...

Heavy artillery rains down from the sky
The stranger with a seductive eye...

Stolen converses and ripped up telephone lines
The warnings, the tickets, and meaningless fines...

Like a fair little trade
On a bare summer's day...

Desolation, he was
One of those rare bittersweets...

L is for lovers
And their lustful lies...

The sound of your voice pushes me on
I keep going, even though you're gone...

Words can kill no matter what they say
They break the bed on which I lay...