Papa, where are you
I am not your son
Papa never listens
But that's how you are
And now you are gone
You have hidden yourself
This life is dirt
The weed is cut
Wesh

My teeth are getting yellower
From the Jacky's and Ella's
Must go faster, even faster
Make more Moula, more criminal
Better than waiting tables
What do tenners per hour bring me
When I wash a hundred plates
Of the rich sons of bitches
Here demons stab the angels
Here dealers pack in cellophane
Vomit the sorrow at midnight
And if God wills, let it be the last time
I hate myself
Got caught
Like Saturday nights
Satan nights
Fishing the sum with me
Sniff rat poison
Nose tear
When coke kisses the nose again
Clear light, not for days
I could go on forever like this
I have too little time on my wrist
I turn the wheels
Trapped in time
I roll papers
Need to go to sleep
My demon is bleeding
We both are not doing so well
Sins are searching for us
Won't leave me alone again
I would call for help
But I know it brings nothing because of the curse

Papa, where
Papa, where
Papa, where
Papa, where are you
I am not your son
Papa never listens
But that's how you are
And now you are gone
You have hidden yourself
This life is dirt
The weed is cut
Papa, where are you
I am not your son
Papa never listens
But that's how you are
And now you are gone
You have hidden yourself
This life is dirt
The weed is cut
Wesh

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