These are the same streets that he walked down These are the same roads that he drove And these are the ways that he went bad Just off the highway by Ventura Blood rolling down by the motel walk And that's my blood My family crest is a stranger's blood But that's not me I count the times that he chose badly I count the times that I went wrong It's not the same Sometimes I guess that I lose my temper Hate myself and I curse my name It's just like him (ch) Sometimes I think that I'm not human I wonder why I never cry And then I know Blood rolling down from the Chevron station I know that none of it was mine And then I know