Torn Between Suicide & Breakfast - Hank Williams III

Holy dogs in the temple of broken glass

Mississippi death threat, mississippi dead flesh

Dressed out like a deer in a wedding dress

On my house, wrecking line

I love it when you beg

Enslavement brings a headache of majority

And headaches of minority

Walking and working, pushing long

Using a manual can opener

The whole of nothing, a whole for something, a complete

Nothing it looks like I want to quit

I’m going back to that room, give me a call sometime

Wet sister, it’s drug lord, slum lord, and strung out and

Dug up, turn on, tuned out and burn out and break out

The throat god of no more alcohol to vomit

I lose myself on Sundays, Vietnam, and Kansas

Trench war, silent preminitions

Preaching to the end of time

The north position, idealogy

Written in chalk, out loud on the

Back of a stop sign

And Texas bus station, torn between suicide and breakfast

And Texas bus station, torn between suicide and breakfast

Beneath the driving to us, solitude and poverty

Never never and never never