I have designed my life
To never be dull
I've burnt another hole
Where there's already a belly full
I've created a world
Where I must get sick to rest
Where it's tempting to think
The dead are truly blessed
I'm an antennae, picking up every little frequency
But it just whirls around like a leaking washing machine
Where there's no water
This machine is actually bleeding
No, nothing's getting clean
Where is my angel of sleep?
I'm summoning her
To crash through my ceiling
And tonight my search for oblivion will be defined
By a divine twist of the wrist
That will flick off the switch of my mind
My angel of sleep
There's never been such a mutant generation so uncomfortable in their own skin
Deathly afraid to miss out on another night of some inconsequential sin
And smeared myself all over this town, defacing every trace of beginnin'
Mistaking every mortal witch for the one that's going to tuck me in
I'm slurring, sober in the daytime
From this disorder in the nighttime
Trying to play it straight
But the only thing slowly turning straight
Is my lifeline
Where is my angel of sleep?
