My head is a crowded city where every citizen's hair is on fire On the corner there's a chapel where all my mother's prayers are a choir And all my dreams they back down the alley ways Aberration has a mortem lidless stare Always have to waste some To pluck the shiny ones Only have to wait some For these accoutrements A thousand captive but not confined And they're only set free one at a time A thousand voices, a one track mind These here rubber band hands stretchin' wide And all my dreams they back down the alley ways Aberration has a mortem blinkless stare Always have to waste some To pluck the shiny ones Only have to wait some For these accoutrements Parting words from me and the others Think before you throw my broke a** away