You let me slide, baby,
On a sheet of thin ice.
Askin’ no questions
And receiving no lies.
You speak to me in parables,
You manufacture truth —
My time is your’s,
Just wake me up when you’re through.
You tell me what I do.
You tell me what I think.
But you don’t know a thing about me.
You read me the future
From the palm of my hand.
You plunge new depths
To remain in my plans.
You draw your conclusions
From imaginary scenes
And piss your confusion
Into the stream.
You’re hurlin’ it hard,