Let's keep this to ourselves
We'll watch the neighbors whisper
It takes a lot to do these things
It tastes a lot like it's bitter
Without these crutches I can't walk
Make sure the front door is locked
Admit on first question to a mouth
But somehow it's me who's always ratted out
Good or bad happy or sad
I'm gonna have to take away
The spoon in the box
That you hide from the cops
I'm gonna have to move away
From the house where you sleep
It's a needle so deep
I'm gonna have to sneak away
From the words that you speak
In a voice no more than a squeak
I'm gonna have to stay
In the bends of your arms
We have the same track marks