Hard not to be identity-less
In the rolling wonderful midwest
Idle behavior and fluid thoughts
Have left me shapeless
I'm still sitting in my cellar
Trying to sellout the devil
I watched time leak slowly
And puddle on the floor
It was a lot more graceful
When the bottle was still half full
The middle act
Is essential to the end
The air is dry
The wit has run thin
I'm still sitting in my cellar
Trying to sellout the devil
Cold blood pools in the cellar
Still trying to sellout the devil