You're fighting more crows than scurvying in sheds Running in the garden as they watch your bullet Put you out to pasture while you're stomping at the brick The line between art and pain no longer exists You're bleeding in the flood, you're dying in a ditch They could fix your home, you could warn it, it's yours to make fix A basket in the black on black while you're grinding in a crane A factory of cowards, an army of the niche Baby numbers on the paper, the view will never change Constructed just to fill the void, you're oiled on the chain You're bleeding in the flood, you're dying in a ditch They could fix your home, you could warn it, it's yours to make fix There is no room to play, there is no room to box There is no room to play, there is no room to box There is no room to play, there is no room to box You're bleeding in the flood, you're dying in a ditch Paint the picture how you would warn it, it's yours to make fix You're bleeding in the flood, you're dying in a ditch Paint the picture how you would warn it, it's yours to make fix