| Lightning cross the way, no
|
| I can’t rest, been up for weeks
|
| The words they come in close
|
| They got a nerve that never sleeps, for me
|
| I say, I wait in rooms of gold
|
| And I crawl down to my knees
|
| A liar, a thief and a coward a crime
|
| I laugh my head clean off at the sight
|
| Bop-Ba-Ba-Da-Da
|
| Bop-Ba-Ba-Da-Da
|
| Bop-Ba-Ba-Da-Da
|
| Bop-Ba-Ba-Da-Da
|
| Pull em in close, drop into the fight
|
| Light that shit up like the Fourth of July
|
| Lonely, cat-like master
|
| Drive me. |
| Take me faster
|
| Eye-that, side back-alley
|
| Add to the score
|
| Join in the war rally
|
| I can’t recite the names
|
| Or events that come to me
|
| The blur of times and dates
|
| That a drink or two, or three, will leave
|
| I walk these streets of gold
|
| And the smell grows on my feet
|
| I cross and slide through a land of mines
|
| I await the gag and my skin to bleed
|
| Lightning cross the way, no
|
| I can’t rest, been up for weeks
|
| The words they come in close
|
| They gotta a nerve that never sleeps, for me |