Crooked Fingers Follow

You now awake on your favorite
The old familiar used up fix
Cracked up from the crowded ...
Of the apparel
And you a plan, a scam of scandals
House that empty contraband
Such a sad shame we got nothing for their slaughter
How can we say we seen the light
When we're only out at night
In some over crowded room
Waiting for our time to loose

While on the make, our new favorite
Lost his grip and fell from grace
As some brand new keep came creeping towards the altar
We kept safe, we just gave up
Chalk one up for our good taste
Such a sad thing when you've got nothing to offer
And in the black hole of our eyes
There's no heat and there's no light
Just an over crowded room, waiting for its turn to loose