Vincent's Tale - The Bedroom

Anger, have you ever felt anger with nowhere to place it?
Vincent felt cold, neglected, and jaded, impotent
Empathy castrated
Look for the new thing, always look for the new thing, but never look inside
Never look within, within, without, above, below, same thing
Wait, it gets deeper than that
The insane thing, insane men living in insane terrain can turn insane, brains that are kinda deranged, strange
Without a factor of cause and effect, factually, the man's a causality of constant neglect
Let's start at the start

Vincent was born in the dark
Homebirth to a mother paintin' scars in her arm
Track marks from the dragon, China white in a palm
Shootin' up the birth canal, Vinny fell out like yarn
Tumbled out, himself unravelin', and that was the theme
Exceptionally average gray spray with low self-esteem
From the fire to the fryin' pan, paintin' it green
When it's the cash that rules everything around me
Cream get the money, funny, Vin'
He weren't ever good at hustlin'
Shitty jobs that he was dead and stockin', started a combustion
Nothing pulled him out of that, the debt collectors rushin' to be strippin' him of everything
Eventually, there's nothing, the cycle is a cycle for a psychopath on ice
The day repeats, the days of weeks, the weeks of most your life
When the day's done, it's the same one
It's a repeat, it's a re-run, a Déjà vu religion, a foreboding of a prison
Whole Britain, Great Britain, help Britannia rule the wage
We started out with intentions and we ended up like slaves
Drink to kill the tension, but the drinks cost your wage
What helps you is what kills you when you're living to decay

And so it goes, Vinny starts to drink to let go
Soon, he's drinking 'cause when he don't drink, every day is a day on death row
So, we drink so we don't have to think, ma-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o, see
Tastes bitter sweet
When the spirit that's inside of him sinks in his teeth

And the months turn over, May to October
More days pissed than the days he spent sober
Skin looks older, demeanor gets colder
Sledgehammer swing to that chip on your shoulder
A cold, cold prison, deep in alcoholism
Forty percent proof, no juice, inhibition, get loose
Bad decision and taboos when we're living for the booze
Who's who, he lose himself to, one, two
Many one, two, three shots down
Drown those sorrows up in London town
If we in for a penny, we in for a pound
Fate comes full circle, now it's Vinny boy's round