You better find your way outyou better learn how to run
You better walk awayand 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 trickleI could flood
A voice coach taught me to singhe couldn’t teach me to love
All the above
Easy talkin’ border blockin’ transport is arranged
Praise the grammar policeset me up with your niece
Walk to baltimoreand keep the language off the street
Well I’m of several mindsI 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 swordI vent my spleen at the lord
He is abstract and bored — too much milk and honey
Well I’ll waltz through the wilderness with nothing
But a compass and a canteen
Settin’ the scenes
Easy walkin’ border blockin’ transport is arranged