Drive down the street can't find the keys to my own fucking home.
I'll take a walk so I could curse my ass for being dumb.
I'll make a right, after the arches, stinking grease and bone.
Stopped at the supermarket people stare like I'm a dog.
I'm going to Lukin's.
I've got a spot at Lukin's.
I knocked the door at Lukin's.
Open the fridge. Now I know life is worth.
I found the key but I return to find an open door.
Some fucking freak who claims I fathered, by rape, her own son.
I find my wife, I call the cops, this days work's never done.
The last I heard that freak was purchasing a fucking gun.
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Restless soul, enjoy your youth.
Like Muhammad. Hits the truth.
Can't escape from the common rule - if you hate something don't you do it too.
Small my table. A-sits just two.
Got so crowded. I can't make room.
Oh where did they come from? Stormed my room.
And you dare say it belongs to you. To you.
This is not for you.
My friends call me Ed, they call me.
My friends they don't scream.
My friends don't call. My friends don't.
All that's sacred comes from youth.
Dedication. Naive and true.
With no power. Nothing to do.
I still remember. Why don't you? Don't you?
Taken from AlbumSongAndLyrics.comThis is not for you.
Never was for you. Fuck you.
This is not for you.