Maybe I'm a baby with a mouth to feed

Maybe I'm a cancer waiting to eat

Maybe I'm a razor on a wrist to bleed

Maybe only water or a bucket of kerosene

It's alright

We are landing this ship soon

It's alright

No more trips around the moon

Momma does the dishes in her wedding ring

Daddy never wishes now for anything

Sister on the corner like a boy's wet dream

All little bit of hell in a bucket of velveteen