Right before the aftermath, I saw where it would end.
They said it was an accident, I guess that all depends
on who you talk to and who you know,
and where you come from and where - where you go.
In your crowd of pushers and users, takers and loosers,
beggars and beggars and beggars and choosers.
Your childhood days are over as you stuff your shirt and say
made a choice and wrong or right it's this way I will stay.
You'll sell it to your children, you'll sell it to your wife.
Buying is your business, and selling it's your life, It's your life.
The vultures are all circling around your window now
Scavengers, evangelists will get to you some how.
Your mother and your ex-best friend, letters that you never send.
Your illegitamate children are coming for you now.
They're always tracking you down, it's looking like a showdown,
between revenge and the edge you can't defend.
Can you try to imagine, a story that has no end?
I think you better steal it while you still understand it, and sell it to one of your friends.