down on freestreet buried six feet down in a one horse - carefully locked door town where no one ever comes around there ain't nothing there to be found an eye for an eye pound for pound blown up yet minimal built up by criminal hands to the republic - it's sick for which it stands there's a man on desolation row reaping fruits that someone else has sown and a prime time appearence on a television show you know the sheep are ridden with disease and i'm down on bending knees the tumour's spreading oh so fast the remedy will never last the die's been cast and the deadline's past there's a crying beholder but no one told her why just wrapped up in plastic conveniently elastic lies i got my radio on it's playing that same old stupid song over and over for much too long i've got to turn that damn thing down...