The moon hangs like the blade of an axe tonight,
And it's poised to drop sometime soon enough,
On this dumptruck where I lie,
Mixed up with the morning's trash.
There's a piece of glass sticking in my back,
And tar covering my mouth.

But it's ok 'cause I'm still breathing,
And my hands are free of the heap. (Oh yeah.)
And I think that I see that big blade falling.
And I think that I see that big blade coming.

And the pressure is getting to me.
And the waste in which I sit is just lurking beside me.
And I can't tell if it's me, or the meat that's rotting.
I'm gonna have to give up sometime soon.

But it's OK 'cause I'm still breathing.
And my hands are free of the heap.
And I think that I see that big blade falling.
And I think that I see that big blade coming.

You can watch me dissappear.
You can watch me.

All I'm losing is me.
All I'm losing is me. (Watch me.)
All I'm losing is me. (Watch me.)
All I'm losing is me.

And I think that I see that big blade falling.
And I think that I see that big blade coming.
To slice open a great canyon,
Through the earth you can watch me dissappear.