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Winter in New England (burn motherf*cker burn in hell)
by
Johnny Hobo and The Freight Trains
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None of us could hope to deserve to exist, but who can? I'll stay the worthless bum unless you got a better plan Doing our best to drink ourselves to death, or at least to sleep Trying to chain smoke the gaps between not enough to eat Well you give me the scars that make me laugh and cry whenever i notice them I want my first beer back, and i want my first acid trip again But i'll always remember the good times in my liver and my spine, and i'll always remember you in the same places Because i swear if that don't kill me, winter in New England will At least until the snow melts, may i BURN MOTHERf**kER BURN IN HELL Nobody could hope to deserve to exist, and we gave up trying There's always room for one more round if you're the one buying Doing our best to drink ourselves to sleep, or at least a driver's seat Trying to chain smoke the gaps between aspiration and apathy Well i want you to always be just a drunken stumble away from me The closest distance between two points is a straight line...of speed But to me we're still able to meet because to me you're still on Elliot Street, and i've walked there twice as drunk as this before Because i swear if that don't kill me, winter in New England will At least until the snow melts, may i BURN MOTHERf**kER BURN IN HELL
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