Knives In The Drain

Lydia Lunch

My windows are on the street

and there's knives in my drain

I've broken the cardboard

forced fists in my brain

I blacken the walls as I suffer my youth

I've got the cancer of birth 

and I ask what's the use

there's knives in my drain

and there's shafts in my brain


curling the hairs and every man's mad

broken fingers of passion and every girl's sad


I'm split and unbled and I'm ripped to the sore

every man's madness and I'm hurdling ripped to the core

there's knives in my drain

empty splints in my brain


I've carved knives in my hair, it's every man's dream

I've broken the passion and every girl bleeds

I'm blackened and bleeding, I'm ripped to my youth

every man's madness, and I ask, what's the use?