He is a frail man, far too weak to hold a strong opinion,
but it don't stop him from trying.
He wears his skin around his bones around his guts around his need to believe,
that all that is in him is all he will ever need.
Complacent tendencies lead to stirring up cocaine dreams to make his memories.
One hand in the cradle, the other in the grave.

I'm tired of your assuring 'cause I knew you'd misbehave.
As his mind shuts on and off, off and on then off again,
he staggers through the hallways of his brain.
Dragging any integrity he may still possess, he peddles his sincerity for failing ambition.
And tries to plant the seeds to make it grow.

I've walked far enough.
My feet attest to a journey proven weathered.
Our cigarette trails lead to where it all began.
This is the part I tell you I'm through. This is giving up.
Not once were you this hard to understand when you stood so promising.
You were impressionable yet, inspiring all the same.
But you gave up on your friends to find knowledge in a strangers arms.
But what knowledge did you gain? what knowledge did you gain?
A strong pharmaceutical taste?

Strong beginnings led my expectations.
Now, we both got it all wrong.
You give and you get and I received less.
I'm not selfish just trying to put my finger on it.
We've been doing business not standing by.
But I'll never stop asking for my friend to return.
It takes a faithful man to trust his son's safe arrival.
But my God afforded so much more!

Sin came pouring down as to paint the earth black,
as I stood quite surely broken.
"I know that you needed someone," a voice resounded, "just as he needs you."
"So, I'll take your hand and give you strength."

My God you, you never stopped. You never gave up on me.