Crow's feet are ingrained on my face

And I'm living too late

Try to wash the black off my face, but it's ingrained

And I'm living too late

Sleepless, in-control spleen

A green [ace for Millie] must have [stump tripod] in the genes

I'm immune to things

In my dreams

I saw through the trees

O'er the poison river locks

Fork treacherous would beat

But still my heart it is rock

Finally going through old parasite gate

But there's a 24-hour clock watch

And I'm living too late

Think

Sometimes life is like a new bar

Plastic seats, beer below par

Food with no taste, music grates

I'm living too late

Once talking was my favourite while

But now I'm no conversationeer

The thrill is done

Maybe I'm living too long

The daylight

I see trouble on the streets

Fearing catastrophe to meet

Walk down the devil's boulevard

But still my heart is hard

They say the [cellars] were't even black

But I know they're wrong

Think it's one [bin]