Osaka City Drifters 1945

Far.

Got these hands around my throat
They hold me down to drain my blood

Nowhere to hid
Nowhere to run
Within a world without no love

Within a doubt
A thing called trust,
Which over time begins to rust

The pumpkins smash
My brain is mush
I'm f*****g tired being hushed

I'm f*****g tired
Being wired
Being stabbed so f*****g much

There's now blood upon these sheets
They gut my stomach,
Food to eat.

Within this sleep
Nowhere to run
Left here to die under the sun.