I smell bud in the hallway
I can't be myself when you are away
It's okay, we'll do it your way
If I can sleep here I can sleep anywhere

New York slums have pulled me into the flux
The kids that smoke me up, they're all actors for a buck
They don't give a fuck
And I'm rushing down the staircase
To the lobby of the George Washington Hotel
This is my hell
East Third Avenue, what's it to you?

I burned those papers you needed, you know better than me
(I wish that I was skinny, then I wouldn't need to be cool)
(And maybe you would need me more than I need you)
I slipped on the black ice, your black eyes
(I wish that I was sickly skinny)
Your sharp teeth you sank deep

You know I can't meet you, you're not real here
I see things no one sees
I pictured draining the blood from your heart