You wandered in there, you wanted it in there
You wanted it in there, every night you took the air
Gasping for anything
There sits the Boston Strangler
Calling all cars, the palace has a moss problem
It glows in the dawn light
Goes wherever you go, sewn into your hem
It's me versus them
First us versus not a goddamn thing
Then the blind bitch versus the clucking hen
In a ring, around the razor's edge
"Kinda dark in here," she says
"Kind of dark in here," she says
"Kinda dark in here," she says
"Kind of dark in here," she says