The season has come. When nothing gets done. Save copycat killin'. Away from windows. asleep on the floor. The wheel of misfortune spins in the yard. And by the way.
Liars left their roost last night. I heard it from some talkshow host. Fangs and venom working hard. In simulcast from coast to coast. Hey ho, 'round we go.
I'm up to my neck. In the mud of Inauguration day. . They say it's one in fifty years. That storm, that blew my dog away. . And they say the road has been washed out.
Dressed in jealous clothes. She drove to the black hole. Out past to where the roads turn into sand. No crmies worth a dime. 'Less you look it in the eye.
A crooked road on a country mile. The widow walks from a letter found. (And) ties her hands in knots and chokes her disbelief. (That) what's done is done and it's dine for good.
In a trailer park with hungry dogs. Eat stolen bread. With stolen credit cards. With half a brain. I'd torch this mess. Have all these things. So I don't ask for more.