Disaster Relief

hey, mister,

can I get a ride?

I'm headed towards the sun

or the moon,

somewhere I can hide.

cops can't search your mail

so I put it in an envelope,

rip it when I'm gone,

when you're home,

when you've lost hope.

I'm sure by the time they find me,

I'll be heavy with a child

conceived in hell,

since it reigns on earth.

make appointments,

keep 'em filed

away.

I won't be like my predecessors,

I will live and die

before I kill myself,

and I will love the devil in disguise.

I keep searching for answers,

but the bottle is empty,

and there's no neon sign,

but I've got a cigarette

to euthanize me.