Union square at about 9 o’clock 
Friday night, boy was he rocked 
Just a dumb beer drinking jock 
Unaware as he staggered and mocked 
On the platform you see a push 
There’s a slam and an eerie squish 
Hear the cracking of his back 
The bloody limbs grind the red tracks 

Insta-death your last breath 
Split-second prayers won’t save 
The shit you’ve stepped in 
Insta-death your last breath 
It’s all over now 
And this is your last wind 

Folks can’t deal with a mad mad world 
Try and fly cute little girl 
People all freaked out on the ruckus 
Scrape - Scrape into a bucket 

All dreams are six feet in the floor 
Atop the clouds in front of Peter’s door 
Finding your way out becomes a chore 
Looks like death is a hopeless bore 
Lie unexpected, lie unexpected 
Dear mother brings you flowers 
As you both rot away the hours 
The aftermath of time 
Thoughts decaying with your mind