The scraping subjects, ruled by fear, they told me whiskey works better than beer. - Elliott Smith

Wearing clothes that clash
Wondering 'is this treasure, is this trash?'
Still trying to decide

I'm looking at a hand full of broken plans
And I'm tired of playing it down
You just want her to do anything to you
There ain't nothing you won't allow
You wake up in the middle of the night
From a dream you won't remember flashing on like a cop's light
You say she's waiting and I know what for
The white lady loves you more

This is the place you end up when you lose the chase,
Where you're dragged against your will from a basement on a hill,
And all anybody knows, is you're not like them,
So they kick you in the head...and send you back to bed.