He was so pissed off he was dying
He would only play Hall and Oates
He said if my days are numbered
I'm going to blast the world with Hall and Oates
So with his finger on the bu*ton he
Shook his walls and windows with his wounded pride
It was my youth he thought was burying him
I became the soldier that puts the sword in his side
He listened for my footsteps every day
It was almost like I was in his veins
He wanted my footsteps to go away
It was almost like I was in his veins
I was the ghost he hated, he called me the mole