Linndale '85. Broken bottles on the floor
Some sad, dark man at the unopened door
Cold air comes through the cracks in the windows; 15 below in the house when the wind blows
Haven't made rent in a month, maybe two. Got scum in the drains and dead birds in the flue
Some scumbag swings by four times a week selling bathtub crank that he scored on the street
Gonna get clean, gonna get these devils all out, gonna leave this hell, gonna get back down south
So goddamn this city
Goddamn these people
Goddamn this weather
And goddamn these broken down hands of mine