Tracks in his arm made him a man,
No-one could understand.
Each night he'd go out shooting skag,
Met a pusher who sold him a bag.

That's why he was..
Dead on arrival….

Ran out of money so he stole a car,
Tried to run but didn't get far.
Sent to prison, no turning back,
Saw his arm, weaned him off smack.

Out on parole tried to keep calm,
Finally died with a needle in his arm.
Yes out on parole, tried to keep calm,
Finally died with a needle in his arm.