The birthplace of plastic

So often the place we live
Has its noose around our necks

So often the place we're born
Has our casket laid out in advance

Vampire locals leave nothing to chance

So leave my body by the roadside
But bury my heart in albany

Leave my corpse for the wolves
But carry my head for all to see

So often the land that made us
Has our future planned

So often the place we run from
Is the place we make our stand

But more often we're crushed in it's hands

So leave my body by the roadside
but bury my heart in albany

leave my remains for the wolves
but carry my head for all to see:

the face of the hometown traitor
the face of the hometown traitor
cause I can't pretend a place is perfect
even if it's getting better

Explanation: Home' is a weird idea. It becomes easy to resent sometimes, even if it's not bad at all.