The chefs are in the alleyway throwing down
They're high on PCP when I'm around
They don't recall a thing or their favourite meal
Til they are coming down
You smack me in the eyes and take my sight
You cut my world in half, baby you're my knife
I bag a lazy spine I can take my life
When I am coming down
When I am coming down
When I am coming down
You amputate my hands and they grow back
As phantoms to replace the world I had
I'm too lazy to invent a brand new myth
When I am coming down
The scenery of saints in stained-gla** walls
You get a little badge and you stand tall
You're knee-deep in the sh** of suburban sprawl
And you are coming down
Oh you are coming down
Oh you are coming down
So s** the monophonic noise and golden hits
They write them in two seconds, it's a piece of piss
I let a little laugh slip from my lips
When I am coming down
Yeah I am coming down
Oh I am coming down
You've got a soft spot for hard stuff
You've got a soft spot for hard stuff
You've got a soft spot for hard stuff
And you are coming down
Yeah you are coming down
Oh you are coming down