Talking

Mr. Tom I know you'll understand
I know you're me
I know you'll lend a helping hand
I feel you make me free

I've got a problem Mr. Tom
It's this bitch'es fucking son
He's been sharing my head
Filling it heavy with lead

I've got a problem Mr. Tom
It's this mother fucking gun
I just can't get my hands off
Feeding the illusion I am tough

My real problem Mr. Tom
Maybe is that I'm alone
And in solitude I am content
Or so I stubbornly pretend

The deal's this dear Mr Tom
I pity every baggy bum
I rebel after every crime
I can't stand the waste of time

I'm not born for this world
I flirt too much with words
I'm not willing to adapt
Therefore I became inapt

Thanks, I knew you'd understand
What I mean and what causes I try to defend
You know I'm clean

Goodbye and till we meet again
maybe next time your eyes will have rain