A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hoping for a heart attack
Tonight the windows are watching, the streets all conspire and the lamppost can't stop crying

If I could fly high above the world
would I see a bunch of living dots spell the world stupidity?
Or would I see hungry lover homicides, loving brother suicides, and olly olly oxenfrees who pickaside and hide

The world is scratching at my door
My morning papers got the scores
The human interest stories, and the obituary, oh yeah

c___roach naps and rattling traps
How many devils can you fit upon a match?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

In my alley around the corner, there's a wino with feathered shoulders
And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back
There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperados scornful of living

The world is scratching at my door....

Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why Hemingway cracked
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

Life is the crummiest book I ever read
There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots, pictures to shock
And characters an amateur would never dream up

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