Can I change your mind? Racey days help me through the hopeless haze But my, oh, my Tragic eyes, I can't even recognize myself So if the answer is no Out again, a siren screams at half-past ten And you won't let go While I ignore, that we both felt like

We'll show you the world and we'll teach you a trade It's not a job, it's an adventure, oh yes sir, I got that Ah, but you never told me I'd get my ass shot at Oh, you'll meet lots of new friends and you're sure to get paid You never told me I'd get my

I'm gonna stick like glue Stuck on you Yeah, yeah, because I'm Yes-sir-ee, uh, uh Stick, because I'm Hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall Ain't gonna do you no good at all Cause once I catch ya, and the kissin' starts

I'm gonna stick like glue Stuck on you Yeah, yeah, because I'm Yes-sir-ee, uh, uh Stick, because I'm Hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall Ain't gonna do you no good at all Cause once I catch ya, and the kissin' starts

Just your pariah Ain't no messiah I'm your pariah For your desire Do you believe every word I say? Pariah from society Addicted to sobriety A product of a virgin birth Another God on Earth, yes that's your fantasy

It's fighting back them butterflies It's call it in the air, alright Yes sir, we want the ball And it's knocking heads and talking trash It's slinging mud and dirt and grass It's I got your number, I got your back When your back's against the wall You

Beach of Fortune and the neon sky You know while back with us will be go tonight That's what they told us and they must be right, so let's ride They built this city for me and you yeah, Snoop A yes sir, radio station, BUSH69 when you're down Take me to

Sorry, you're so sorry Don't be sorry Man has known and now he's blown it Upside down and hell's the only sound, we did an awful job Eyes are full of desire Mind is so ill-at-ease Everything is on fire Out of rhyme or reason, everyone's to blame Children

I was the last child, just a punk in the street Home sweet home Take me back to a south Tallahassee Down cross the bridge to my sweet sassafrassy Can't stand up on my feet in the city Got to get back to the real nitty-gritty Yes sir, no sir Don't come

It's fighting back them butterflies It's call it in the air, alright Yes sir, we want the ball And it's knocking heads and talking trash It's slinging mud and dirt and grass It's I got your number, I got your back When your back's against the wall You