I told myself to go

Lie about everything you know

I only drive crashed cars

The opiate to disaster and dying stars

What else did we not leave behind

We need room for what we might find

Faster than the speed of light

Count down commission, hold on tight

Railways, bus stations, airport taxi stands

One, two, three, throw your morals in a garbage can

With money in one hand

And scissors in the other

I'll probably end up back here tomorrow

Go find me your self

I'm my own coup de grace

I will be wishing you well

I am your stomach turned into knots