Crow's feet are ingrained on my face And I'm living too late Try to wash the black off my face, but it's ingrained And I'm living too late Sleepless, in-control spleen A green [ace for Millie] must have [stump tripod] in the genes I'm immune to things In my dreams I saw through the trees O'er the poison river locks Fork treacherous would beat But still my heart it is rock Finally going through old parasite gate But there's a 24-hour clock watch And I'm living too late Think Sometimes life is like a new bar Plastic seats, beer below par Food with no taste, music grates I'm living too late Once talking was my favourite while But now I'm no conversationeer The thrill is done Maybe I'm living too long The daylight I see trouble on the streets Fearing catastrophe to meet Walk down the devil's boulevard But still my heart is hard They say the [cellars] were't even black But I know they're wrong Think it's one [bin]
