Из альбома: Condition
Can't remember your name,
what you look like, who you are.
Don't want to grow old
with my shoes untied and my hair unfurled.
I don't want to rot with the TV set to channel 13.
"What a pretty weather lady"
"Who are you, son of mine?",
"Don't you mind?"
"I need some room to breathe",
"I've lived too long with too much to see".
I don't want to rot in this fucking chair.
My spine crooked and my teeth not all there.
I never want to feel totally useless.