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Ghost town, walking among the zombies Faced down, their eyes are never on me Back stop to the warm Plugged into a pocket Sad mothers well, just die I could try to emulate the brain-dead But I get sick and tired of the radio Buzzing like a hornet in the playpen I’ll unplug, feel my head, feel alright Goddamn, set yourself on fire Strong crowd to walk you to the fire Don’t be who you are, they’d rather see your riot Son, I don’t like my mind I would like to medicate the brain-dead But I get sick and tired in the waiting room Keep me so unwell that I’m your best friend Nice and quiet, we’ll behave, I’m alright Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah Blah, blah, blah, blah Blah, blah, blah From Letras Mania