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Choir Vandals
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Freaking Out
The feeling of waiting to be hung is much like the feeling of smoke in my lungs.
Hobby or habit, either way I'm done. What a conscientious web I've spun.
Someone asked me how I'm doing. I've got an answer you probably won't like. I can't find the words to say that I can't hang when I'm high. Oh yeah, well I guess I'm fine.
They all want to talk about the things that they did back in school. And I don't want to think about the things I'll never do.
Oh, I think I'm ready to leave my body tonight, so I don't feeling nothing.
So quick to leave all my friends behind, would they notice I'm missing
But every time I think about the afterlife, it's so very frightening.
But still, I'll leave my body tonight, so I don't feel nothing.
Oh yeah, alright.
How do I look, How do I sound?
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My eyes fixated on the tile grout.
Iron gum, mojave mouth. My teeth, are they falling out?
Conscious self leads to constant doubt.
And I think I'll just go lay down, somewhere where no one else is around and listen to Know By Heart, because I'm freaking out. Have I ever really been myself?
They all want to talk about the things that they did back in school. And I don't want to think about the things I'll never do.
Oh, I think I'm ready.
I think I'm ready to leave my body tonight.
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