Pull the knife from my back and show me the color.

Is it red or is it black?

Just hand it over.

The wound pulses like a rusted swing set, and now the higher I get off my electronic marijuana cigarette, I feel regret.

So hold pressure where it lacks, cause I could lose a lot of black blood the black blood that dresses the macerated edge that drips into buzzards that follow you my friend.

Oh my friend, I still see you in your bed resting beside me with an elbow bent.

Arrested Development playing over and over again.

Oh my friend, I still see you in your bed.