my cat on the trunk
a pack of cigarrettes
all i'm taking with me
is all i could leave behind

skycrapers yell at me craving
for blood and money
big money and my old car
i'm ready to believe in every lie
is told the roads the whores
the whiskey the tires the engine
the bar's neon lights the window pane
one single lie to bring'em together
under a ceiling of purple piece-of-shit-shaped clouds