| The phone, it has been ringing
|
| Ringing off the hook
|
| And the creditors have said
|
| That all of your debts have grown legs
|
| And are running off the books
|
| Correctional facilities
|
| Sure, I’ll accept your calls
|
| But the tales have grown tall
|
| And the till isn’t at all
|
| And tears are only bread crumbs
|
| For the crooks
|
| And my paycheck, it is bleeding
|
| But it’s fight or flight
|
| The exit from debt could be the entrance
|
| Into paradise
|
| What are you doing daytimes?
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| Shooting out your windows, I bet
|
| But the flocks of your dreams
|
| Know that it’s hunting season
|
| It’s a joke that you’ll never get
|
| Because wooden ducks, they do not bleed
|
| And try as you might
|
| The only goose that you’ll bite
|
| Is the goose egg you call your wife
|
| When the bars announce it’s closing time
|
| And my heart, it is still beating
|
| But it’s fight or flight
|
| The exit from loneliness is not necessarily
|
| The entrance into paradise
|
| Into paradise
|
| Of all the men I’ve known
|
| Who have money
|
| I like you the most
|
| Because every dollar you invent
|
| You’re even more hell-bent
|
| On risking life and limb for another toast
|
| When we were falling into puddles
|
| I knew you had it in for me Scraped my face on the ground
|
| Until blood was down me From my nose to the hem of my jeans
|
| And my heart, it is still bleeding
|
| But it’s fight or flight
|
| The exit from loneliness
|
| Could be the entrance into paradise
|
| Into paradise |