The Dead Peddler

Brother on the street; reach into your pocket, reach into mine
Speak to me narcotic god, in your temple, help me? Save me?
Victory over you (trash man) is to see you dead
Dancing in your blood. Glory in your pain
You are clean
We are clean
The peddler is dead, with a kicked in head
Weakness shows, when you see my eyes; clear, confident and unafraid
Make your offer: extend your soul; fading, sensual and inviting
Poison follows you cock-roach + you are next
Dancing in your blood. Glory in your suffering
A dead peddler
After feeding on the young and weak, now you’re face down on the street
We are clean
You are clean
The dead peddler
The peddler is dead