Exile On Mainline

Get god dammit
Son of a bitch I'll kill 'ya right there
Will 'ya get
God damn move when I say move you motherfucker

Hundred dollar demon in my pocket
And a scrape in the hole
Digging up a bruise that darkens
Calibrated to go

Down, down, down
And your grip is slipping
Down, down, down
And the page is ripping

Wasting the world away at the bite of your touch
The wash of the passing days seeping out, doesn't matter that much
Drowning out, no sound, pouring out upon the ground
Raining down, the drain

Down, down, down
Morning shakes and you're fading away
Down, down, slowly down
Metal stress and it's shearing away

Round and around and around to the ground
And I'm stumbling, tripping
Down, jerk around
And the record's skipping

And the record's skipping,
And the record's skipping,
Skipping, skipping, skipping
And the record's skipping