I have a space in me, what should I fill it with
should I dream about money or love
everyone's turned to a performer, and streets are stages
there was a girl that I love, (as told) she's turned to a whore
whoever wants to fall upon me, let them come
whoever wants to walk out to go show off, let them go
hush the ones who say 'what's done is done'
I had quite of this world
I have a pleasantness into my head, how should I explain
what should I fill my glass, my cigarette paper with
being broke is all just a poor excuse
with only a sip, a puff on, everything becomes fabulous
with only a sip, a puff on, life becomes fabulous