(Chorus:)
Everything is torn apart still hunting
Insoles already worn down
Still running
Microwaves cook my head
It's feeling shrunken
You've got to have the money up front
There's no fronting

Everything is torn apart still hunting
All for naught
Insoles already worn down
Still running
Bird sings it's final song
Microwaves cook my head
It's feeling shrunken
All for naught
You've got to have the money up front
There's no fronting
None at all

It's becoming soot
You're becoming wood
Miracles can happen
And they would if I thought they could
Check with administration
As it's stood
Then what's bad is good
Raining heavy metal on the hood
While escaping regulations from it
(X2)
(Chorus)