My black tar friend

You were put there by the Devil,
even though you have a home,
and a sister, whom I know.
Just walking down the street,
lost
or are you planning?

Somebody still loves you.
(if not God, then your mother)
There's a deep sadness
in the sinister
behind those black eyes.

I don't know if I believe in
That Sort of Thing,
yet I can't stop; I want to -
No, I can't stop!
Just keep driving
and don't look back.

In the mirror I see you,
looking back,
still there,
waiting...

I don't want to be your black tar friend,
I don't like the way you smell.

In the backseat two knuckleheads sitting:
"We need a come-up."
Is this really real?
I am half-sick of these shadows!
I'm puking my guts out -
Where are the orgasms I've heard about?

Let me be, my eyes are already closed.
Though the vivid images keep rolling,
There's no need to sleep in this surreal dream…
Just let me be, I'm already sleeping.

Panhandlin everyday for gas,
I should have known
by the sinister of those eyes.
You clothes, culture - They don't fool me.
My companion and I,
we said: "Now there's a decent guy."

I don't want to be your black tar friend.
I don't like the way you smell.