To deal with you the way you like Cashed out, my neck is frozen Careful when we're mixing potion Slashin' like Guns N' Roses You got options but I been chosen The way you like it I never really talk about dick that I wanna give you Or places I wanna get

Fingers tap into what you were once And I'm worried that I blew my only chance While we are young And my heart Was colder when you've gone And I lost my head Under the sun You hold your truth so purely Swerve not through the minds of men

Shall I write or phone from Paris or Rome Even though you're tryin' to hold me back You don't get no mail you know I'm in jail Fare thee well, my brother, please don't stand in my way I'm goin' down to that dirty town no matter what you say You fooled me

An unimaginable life We are the bridge We are the fire Oh I believe With all my heart I know we were born to be here again In the kind of love that you die for Somethin' in the innocent wind's

Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you Big River Then I'm gonna sit right here until I die I met her accidentally in St. Paul,

That you wear to bed while the ceiling fan turns To the rhythm that were spinning bare feet on the floor In the living room light got me begging for more Of that party girl strutting down the hall like a beauty queen long legs and all Got me melting in

La la la la la la la And in the hours that followed, no one could repair In the quiet morning, there was much despair That poor girl, tossed by the tides of misfortune Barely here to tell her tale, rolled in on a sea of disaster Rolled out on a mainline

Hey, hey, hey, hey And I know now, that I'm so down You look so perfect standing there In my American Apparel underwear Your lipstick stain is a work of art I got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

"Got so much to do. Huh, honey?" "Yes, definitely. I'm just..." "Well, look, again, if you need mom to come out there for a week..." "I don't think that needing, like, mothering." "No, no, not mothering. Organizing. Or doing, doing tasks." "Yes, right."

Palms are fitted black and finely tuned He won't come down To triggers that cause bodies that tremble But this mud looks shallow from the beach When we hide behind such ugly faces And the dark eyed woman lifts her head "Why do we hide behind such ugly