You better find your way out, you better learn how to run
You better walk away, and leave the angles for the shills
Well I've been thinking for days about the means and the ways that I could
hate all I touch
I know you're my lady but I could trickle, I could flood
A voice coach taught me to sing, he couldn't teach me to love
All the above
Easy talkin' border blockin' transport is arranged
Praise the grammar police, set me up with your niece
Walk to Baltimore, and keep the language off the street
Well I'm of several minds, I am the worst of my kind
I wanna cremate the crutch
I know you're my lady but phone calls could corrupt the morning
I heed the surgeon's warning -- pillars of eights
I swung my fiery sword, I vent my spleen at the lord
