| Your hand on his arm
|
| Haystack charm around your neck
|
| Strung out and thin
|
| Calling some friend, trying to cash some check
|
| He’s acting dumb
|
| That’s what you’ve come to expect
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| He’s wearing your clothes
|
| Head down to toes, a reaction to you
|
| You say you know what he did
|
| But you idiot kid, you don’t have a clue
|
| Sometimes they just get caught in the eye
|
| You’re pulling him through
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Now in the bus nearly touching this dirty retreat
|
| Falling out, 6th and Powell, a dead sweat in my teeth
|
| Going to walk, walk, walk four more blocks
|
| Plus the one in my brain, down downstairs to the man
|
| He’s going to make it all okay
|
| I can’t beat myself, I can’t beat myself
|
| And I don’t want to talk
|
| I’m taking the cure, so I can be quiet
|
| Whenever I want
|
| So leave me alone, you ought to be proud
|
| That I’m getting good marks
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay
|
| Needle in the hay |