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Sittin' on the bus with my head out of sync

Olanzapine dreams between each blink

Crawlin' on the window, they laugh at me

Better lick 'em off 'cause the drugs ain't free

Young guns hired off the streets

Rubber gloves and plastic sheets

Supervised while I take a shit

Dollar store funeral pyres lit

When they close the coffin lid

Tears of pity will be shed

What a miserable life he led

Died with a helmet on his head