Sean Two

They tell me get a grip, strangers grasp me from below, they can really give some lip, I don't need drugs to pray, sooth my bones, find the need to get away, stowaways make surly trips, manacled wretched clones, others take a coin and flip, hollow jokes and spirits fray, down unforgiving zones, a lie in everything they say, they make your spirits dip, like alcoholic dojos, with another 'script, don't ask me how I sleep, or even want to atone, when faith makes a leap, you wonder why I slip, for every childhood groan, on my coffin ship, I sail away for home.