You are everywhere, within and without. Where it don't matter what we used to do now. Where I feed my people when I get behind the plow. When I write the tiger hanging on by his eyebrows.
There's me then there's you. And I could dance with the puck. In a telephone booth. You said, "I don't give a fuck. Besides enough about you. And your "evil's banal".
Is it a mean streak, you'd swear, you'd swear. We never seen a stranger round here. Is it the way the dust clings to the air. But you'd swear, you'd swear.
This one is for you and it goes on and on and on. When nothin' seems to do. For when the doubtless and the wrong. Ask, "Can I help you?". In that way that says, I can't.
You do the combat math. I'm the war artist. You can't take your shots back. I have to watch them miss. The basketball rim. Shook like a tambourine. Not an unlikely event.