It's film noir with red, purple, black, and blue.

I am laying in the rust of an old truck full of dust.

Sirens blare in the distant town, and there's murder on my might.

All alone on a New Year's Eve

of stacking piles of fallen leaves

A starry sky covers my head

And there's murder on my might

I'm tearing chunks

Of cotton candy

to make sure the clouds

I'm talking loudly to myself

and the birds

but birds bugs

the mingo with my hair out of all things

I can declare

it's pretty good to be a man

and there's murder on my mind

My hometown is far away

I have left it wrought and decay

As I applaud the fireworks

This murder on my mind. It's getting late.

I'm getting tipsy.

...