I can't even keep 'em all straight Do we mean what we say We got lines crossed all over the place, yeah I can't tell if I'm winning or losing Somebody tell me what are we doing Nobody ever comes out on top Tell me are we ever gonna stop Playing these

Culture vulture Straight line Feel it burst liver and lung Long and strong 'Til she spills her black blood Center down Vast the head body and tail Shatter life Physeter catodon

Straight out of line I can't find a reason Why I should justify my ways I don't need a reason You don't need to lie to me There's no reason There's no compromise Changing seasons

Robson girl, sit down by your daddy Maybe when we're older we can try this over Loving on the sidelines another one of my kind No one else's shoulder, I felt could be colder Loving on the sidelines just one straight on my mind

Straight out of line I can't find a reason Why I should justify my ways I don't need a reason You don't need to lie to me There's no reason There's no compromise Change in seasons

Looking for meat Wants you to eat Never straight and narrow I won't keep in time Tend to burn the arrow Out of the line Been inclined to wander Off the beaten track

I find the map and draw a straight line Over rivers, farms, and state lines The distance from me to where you'd be It's only finger-lengths that I see I touch the place where I'd find your face My fingers in creases of distant dark places I hang my coat

On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone We're only at home when we're on the run He's got a road map of Jupiter A radar fix on the stars All along the highway She's got a

With all the clarity of dream The sky so blue, the grass so green The rank and file and the navy blue The deep and strong, the straight and true The blue line they got the given sign The belts and boots march forward in time The wood and leather the club

I got no pickup lines, I stay on the grind I tell the hoes all the time, bitch, get in my car (Bitch, get in) I got my 64, ridin' on Dayton spokes And when I open that do', bitch, get in my car I'm a straight guerilla with it, cold hearted killa with it