Somebody Help Me, Tell Me Where To

Nothing But Pain, Stuck In This Game, Searching For Fortune And Fame.

Give Me A Paper And Pen, So I Can Write About My Life Of Sin. A Couple Of Bottles Of Gin, In Case I Don't Get In.

People Look To Me To Do Things For Them, To Have Answers.

All I'm Trying To Do Is Survive And Make Good Out Of The Dirty, Nasty, Unbelievable Lifestyle That They Gave Me.

Everyday There's More Death, And Plus I'm Doughless. I'm Seeing More Reasons For Me To Proceed With Thieving.