Definitely this is the wrong place to be
There's blood on the futon 
There's a kid drinking' fire
Going' down to the sea
They've got people to meet
Shaking hands with themselves
Looking' out for themselves
When they ask you credit
You give them a branch
When they want to get it
You chew on the grass
I know, I know
'Cause they told me to tell you
There's nothing to tell you
There's nothing to sell you
In the afternoon
Riding the scapegoat
Burning equipment
 [bad word] 
Cool of your jets
Take off your sweats
I got a funny feeling
They've got plastic in the afterlife
When they want you to cry
Leap up into the sky
When they suck your mind
Like a pigeon you'll fly
I know, I know
It's the positive people [bad word] from their time
Looking for some feeling