St. Peter Here I Come. (Queenie, I'm Sorry)

Don't leave me alone, I'm gunna hurt myself.
Pills and bottles and drugs on the shelf.
Skeletons in closets, bunnies under rugs, they have an army over-seas.

Somewhere between the queers and the Jews they plan their attacks.
Sobriety is a soul thing of the past.
So tell my mother this is not her fault.

I'll be seeing the angels that surrounded dad.