La da da da, da da da da La da da da, da da da da da I went to a wishing well, I sank to the ocean floor I reached for a shooting star, it burned a hole through my hand Made it's way through my heart, had fun in the promised land Cut up by sharpened

As I climb onto your back, I will promise not to sting I will tell you what you want to hear, and not mean anything Then I treat you like a dog as I shoot my venom in You pretend you didn't know that I am a scorpion, oh My life is everything That feeds

Ridin' 'round town with our rifles on the front seat Fun, you and me in the Middle East Shootin' at rocks bullets cocked in the mid-day fun, you and me in the old jeep Sun, you and me in the old jeep Let's go have Let's go have fun All you gotta' do is

This some shit I hate to share Escape this life or pay the fare Grab this gun and aim it there Shoot my pain and slay my fear Before I die, I say my prayer Don't worry about the mess just lay me there This is all I got so lay me bare One more time I'll

Catch me if you can I'm in the jailhouse now Well hey, hey Mr. Policeman Hey, hey Mr. Policeman Bet I can drive faster 'n you can C'mon hoss lets have some fun Go on shoot me with a radar gun You look bored and I sure am I got a 75 Firebird trans am

With those Angry Eyes with those Angry Eyes Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me Time, time and again I see you staring down at me Now, then and again I wonder what it is that you see You want to

Love conquers all Feels like the end When you're closer to losing your dreams Than losing a friend Flying blind I'm shooting into the dark Who will I find? And if it takes me a lifetime

And all my friends say I started shooting doubles When you walked in All my friends say I went a little crazy Seeing you with him You know I don't remember a thing But they say I sure was raising some cane I was a rock star, party hard

Boat to an island on the wall Shooting season's open To be aware Future singing in the field A hand striking in slow motion To care, or not to care To be there In the distant and uncertain In an old Iberian hotel room

He's the one Who likes all the pretty songs And he likes to sing along And he likes to shoot his gun But he knows not what it mean Knows not what it mean And I say yeah Sell the kids for food