At the nine o' clock hour after a cold steel shower an envelope slides beneath a cold steel door. I'm shitting, sick of shivering through my bones and breaking promises I've made a thousand times before. Well I'll call a couple times just to say that I tried, and then I'll sleep beneath the screams of the big TV. What is it I could say in a ten minute call that I couldn't say by saying nothing at all. You have ten minutes remaining for this call. Just what the fuck are you gonna say? You have ten minutes remaining for this call. We both know there's nothing left to say. Well I think an awful lot about the things that I'm not and it sinks right through the holes in my yellow arms. Better now instead of later in the city of Decatur and the screams and broken glass and blaring car alarms. I've been broke and black and borrowing from my heart for all the things that I need when my brain can't pay. Since I was sixteen I had a junkie's dream and it's kind of sort of prophecy to die this way. You have ten minutes remaining for this call. Just what the fuck are you gonna say? You have ten minutes remaining for this call. We both know there's nothing left to say. I've got a bottle full of buddies and an eight-legged friend. I've got a bottle full of buddies and an eight-legged friend. I've got The Doors in my head singing "this is the end". I've got a bottle full of buddies and an eight-legged friend. You have ten minutes remaining for this call. We both know there's nothing left to say.