Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes. Daddy's in the alley, he's looking for food.
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip, my toes to numb to step, wait only for my boot heels to be wandering.
If you're not busy being born, you're busy dying.
I kinda live where I find myself.
You been down to the bottom with a bad man, babe But you're back were you belong
She takes your voice and leaves you howling at the moon.