Lyrics

My streets an oozing cesspool And I hope that yours is too All your excess is an abscess Draining in my living room And despite all your derision I am fine lifting the load Count my luck, I count my blessings Count my fingers, count my toes What Satan needs to know is There's no shame in saying hell don't feel like home Home is fucking hopeless Home is for the weak Khaki stress and self defense Where function never meets Yet still I′d feel so lucky To one day be called an old Count my grays, I count my days I count my wrinkles, count my folds What Satan needs to know is There's no shame in saying hell don't feel like home The demons won't stop screaming The wifi moves so slow There's two gargoyles 69ing Constantly out my window What Satan needs to know There's no shame in saying hell don't feel like home