The chefs are in the alleyway throwing down They're high on PCP when I'm around They don't recall a thing or their favourite meal Til they are coming down You smack me in the eyes and take my sight You cut my world in half, baby you're my knife I bag a lazy spine I can take my life When I am coming down When I am coming down When I am coming down You amputate my hands and they grow back As phantoms to replace the world I had I'm too lazy to invent a brand new myth When I am coming down The scenery of saints in stained-glass walls You get a little badge and you stand tall You're knee-deep in the shit of suburban sprawl And you are coming down Oh you are coming down Oh you are coming down So suck the monophonic noise and golden hits They write them in two seconds, it's a piece of piss I let a little laugh slip from my lips When I am coming down Yeah I am coming down Oh I am coming down You've got a soft spot for hard stuff You've got a soft spot for hard stuff You've got a soft spot for hard stuff And you are coming down Yeah you are coming down Oh you are coming down