i used to live at the monarch hotel where the days got smoked like downtown hell i d know it was tuesday i would know it was noon because i could hear the sirens wail even though it was just a test the mind starts to wonder and you know the rest it s like i ve got to find myself an easier softer way does all good art come from suffering not all good art comes from suffering broken windows in the lobby made a mess of you and me it s such a letdown that is my hobby making a mess of you and me i used to smoke at my mother s house by the bottle brush trees where the wasps hung out i d know it was friday i d know it was three because the air wasn t stale even though i lost my breathe the mind still wonders if it is all a test i still got to find myself an easier softer way does all good art come from suffering not all good art comes from suffering broken windows in the lobby made a mess of you and me it s such a letdown that is my hobby making a mess of you and me