Buck 65
January
Now I could hear the coyotes when I laid in a bed
It's thoughts of running away would invade my head
And I would starve myself, never lose a pound
The pain never goes away it just moves around

January sidewalk, evergreen battlefield
Outta the rain with with cuts that'll heal
And as the casualties gradually disappear magically
Wrapped in plastic and trapped in caskets
Stricken and looking like a victim of a sex-crime
There is always some more where they came from the next time
They used to be pretty, now they're all messed up
Stressed out and dressed up
Needle still in her arms
Stripped to the silver and gold
And disregarded
Along with a card board boxes in the garbage
People just walk by with brand new clothes on
Socks and underwear as all of this goes on
Carcasses all over the ground and the darkness
Some of them were drugged and all of them were unplugged
And ugly
"Oh my god, they call themselves christians!"
I cry from the forest and nobody listens
Blame it on the rain, blame it on the black star
But these crimes are committed in your very own backyard
And where were the angels when they needed the most of all
Too far away and too close to call
Tipped over and broken, open wounds
Untreated
Don't bother calling an ambulance
None's needed
It's too late
Forever after everything remains brought
A chainsaw massacre

Now I could hear the coyotes when I laid in a bed
It's thoughts of running away would invade my head
And I would starve myself, but never lose a pound
The pain never goes away just moves around