Tablespoon Of Codeine

There is a guy from the Sun-Tribune
Staking out my house in a Chevy Impala
Since yesterday noon

Should I speak to him
Or just stay quiet
They hear the whistle blow and
Out pours the blood of my child

A tablespoon of codeine
Will put you right to bed
I don’t want any more codeine
Wanted to make it
On my own tonight
My own tonight

So I said some things
That can’t be said
About a ritual tower, the uses of
More American dead

And what happened in
September was a fake
But they’re chasing demolition
Or remote controlled planes

Whatever you do
You have to commit
And whatever you do
You have to put your blood into it

So I said some things
That can’t be said
From the FAA, the empty desk
Of Alan Armisted