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He was feeling invulnerable |
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That was foolish but wonderful |
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But of course the first one was always free |
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He's got one wrist in heaven, one ankle in hell |
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Somebody pushed or he just fell |
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He's riding the subway watching the lights play |
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Red yellow green he's always somewhere in between |
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The station he wants, the station he needs, |
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And the station where the chickenhawks come to feed |
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Refrain: |
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Since the worm turned he's learned |
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This apple's a blood-filled tear |
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And he falls down laughing, he falls down laughing |
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He falls down and he disappears |
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First he tried to be pure now he just wants a cure |
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He's wasted, his skin's sore, he's flat-out poor |
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When you live in doubt that's when your luck runs out |
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He's on the roof alone, outside the zone |
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Now he's on the street again when he calls him then |
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Billy just cannot resist |
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Now he's an orphan sleeping with the coffins |
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Just like oliver twist |
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Well since the worm turned . . . |
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Billy's tired of the lies, he's turning every fire |
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Looking for his own past |
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He's limping in the water searching for the quarter |
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Inch of clarity |
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His future is raining blood like stars |
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He's fallen so far behind |
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He might as well be blind |
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Watching late-night film noir inside of stolen cars |
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His tongue stuck frozen to the monkey bars |
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His ladder lost its rungs, billy speaks in tongues |
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Every time he's in the clear his past looks back and sneers |
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But since the worm turned . . . |
