I'll crack my head,

then pour in some sorrow,

I stole some things from you

I could have easily borrowed.

When you were pissed and on the rag.

I waited around but now I'm packing my bags.

To live on a street in Hollywood.

Will they love me there?

I'll be a boy in a magazine.

I'll mean nothing to you,

you'll mean nothing to me.

You asked to go so I guess that I'll leave

and just be a boy in a magazine.

I won't have a bed.

I'll still have my string stained hand.

I call home where animals are buried in the backyard.