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A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hoping for a heart attack
Tonight the windows are watching
The streets all conspire
And the lampost can't stop crying
If I could fly high above the world
Would I see a bunch of little dots spell the word stupidity?
Or would I just see hungry lover homicides
Loving brother suicides
And olly olly oxenfrees, who pick a side and hide
The world is scratching at my door
My morning papers got the scores
The human interest stories, and the obituary
Oh yeah, cockroach naps and rattling traps
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the kerouac cat
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
In my alley around the corner
There's a wino with feathered shoulders
And a spirit giving head for crack
He'll never want it back
There's a little kid and his family eating
Crackers like thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living
The world is scratching at my door
My morning papers got the scores
The human interest stories, and the obituary
Oh yea, cradle for a cat, Woolf looks back,
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why Hemmingway cracked
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
Life is the crummiest book I ever read
There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots
Pictures to shock and characters an
Amateur would never dream up
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
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