High Street - Verb T, Illinformed

I’m unhinged, I’m wondering, see this could be a deadly trip

I’m on the high streets and there’s a bunch of pricks getting pissed

Wetherspoons, Revolution, Yates, and the Walkabouts

Talk about a cattle market, more like a slaughterhouse

While you step to me with wine on your breath

Right the fuck out of here is where I want to get

But also want to blow my mind, I’m in self-destruct mode

How would I get home anyway?

Who the fuck knows?

The scene then switches with an anime effect

Next thing, I’m in that same old alley way again

Looking to my left, I see that scabby little wench

In the corner trying to sell me contaminated sex

Someone handed me a bag of purple powder

What did I do with it, people start cursing louder

Fights breaking out, blood, sweat, and piss

Fuck stepping in, man, I should’ve known ahead of time

Next day, I walked past and see a yellow sign

«Did you see anything?»

nothing that I recognize

«How about another?»

«I really shouldn’t»

«Bartender, two more stingers»

«Make it three»

«No, just two please»