There's a kid within my head with a hatchet to my nervesnRebellion fills the songs he sings and this much I deservenWith every hack at synaptic gaps, there's another to the hairlinenHis freckled skin hides an angry side and even though he wants me deadnI'd kill myself to keep him alivennFlat out, motionlessnA statue growing moldnAround me rotates a world with no controlnnThe forest of my childhood is now a filthy parking lotnWhat isn't asphault is barely connected by deserted grown-in stonewallsnAnd therein lies a home, he stumbles these streets alonenWalking through the backyards, circling the brainstem, left unto his ownnnMotionless, a statue growing moldnAround me rotates a world with no controlnnI know I'll never make it by myselfnBut he believes, he believes in one more swingnnTwenty-three atop the peak of nothing guaranteednLet's hope at thirty-five my friend inside is still up there and still alivenI'll pack my bags and run awaynOutrun the axe another day