I've got nicotine stains on my fingers./ I've got a silver spoon on a chain. What shall we use/ To fill the empty spaces/ Where we used to talk? If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes/ You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise. Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true./ Mother's gonna put all her fears into you./ Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing./ She wont let you fly, but she might let you sing. And I can feel one of my turns coming on./ I feel cold as a razor blade,/ Tight as a tourniquet,/ Dry as a funeral drum./.../ Don't look so frightened/ This is just a passing phase,/ One of my bad days.