Firewater - 7th Avenue Static

Wear the crown made of thorns on the day I was born
By the light of a cold television
And I remember the boss in his uniform
As he marched from the field of vision

Well he didn't come home and it was just us alone
The brat and the widowed civilian
Then one April night after Ma took her life
I fell down the street to oblivion

And I took what the dumpsters were giving
And I did my best to survive
'Cause I figured that life's for the living
While you're alive
While you're alive

Bring out the gin and the small violins
I'm a raging success as a failure
And it's colder than hell in this cardboard hotel
Which I share with a chronic embezzler