He's the patron saint of cash
And I was down on my luck
Sometimes what we want most
Is the worst for us
I was stuck in a paper fog
Living for the hunger and drug
Sometimes who we love most
Are the worst for us
So go on now go on
Get out of my head and my bed
Go on now go on
And leave me to the dust and my wreckage
The Wailing gangs of the lost
Generations Burnt out on
Fixing nothing but a screen
We all lose our minds I think
So go on now go on
Get out of my head and my bed
Go on now go on
And leave me to the dust and my wreckage
I'm the PATRON SAINT of CRASH