| There’s a line in the sky
|
| Its jet exhaust
|
| Its moccassin looking straight cloud
|
| And if you turn your head sideways
|
| It can look like a distant twister
|
| Coming to swing a cow
|
| A quarter mile
|
| In three seconds.
|
| And lift up my camper and drop her down
|
| Not so gently
|
| Ain’t nothing to worry about
|
| Its all under control
|
| Ain’t nothing to see here
|
| Please vacate the premisses
|
| We must secure the area
|
| And dust for prints
|
| Let the evidence be fondled
|
| Mentally attempt to solve
|
| The mystery that’s before you
|
| With clues and leeches poppin up
|
| Take em down town for questioning
|
| Ain’t nothing to worry about
|
| Its all under control
|
| Ain’t nothing to see here
|
| Please vacate the premisses
|
| You have the right to remain silent
|
| As well as to yell!
|
| At the top of your lungs
|
| Why abuse your rights
|
| Why not abuse your wrongs
|
| Its there where the fun begins and the things
|
| We see in the clouds become real
|
| She creeps by candle light
|
| Shadows to start conversing
|
| And the flowers on the bedspread
|
| Waiting to suck me up
|
| I drift to unconciousness
|
| Only to awake
|
| Till metal starts grinding on pavement
|
| Riding next to my head
|
| Line in the sky
|
| Its jet exhaust
|
| Its mocassin looking straight cloud
|
| And if you turn your head sideways
|
| It can look like a distant twister
|
| Coming to swing a cow
|
| A quarter mile
|
| In three seconds
|
| A lift up my camper and drop her down
|
| Not so gently
|
| Ain’t nothing to worry about
|
| Its all under control
|
| Ain’t nothing to see here
|
| Please vacate the premisses |