Since I'm putting down all of the true things around, but I like it I handed down the crown, given the jewels and the answers of may The thought of being ousted comes and goes When I think about it the wind blows I hate it Run me out of town, somewhere a move might intended a gown at Pissed at all the bowels, always the blues and a delicate smile Missed all of the sideways, gull and noun Chills and petty band-aids, wrapped around I hate it Good grief