Hey hey hey, check it out, tickets to the ride sold on the side hooked yourself up
I'll run till my wallet falls out (x2.5) (x2)
I lost a switch blade running across a field one time (x4.5)
I lost a (x10)
My ghost? A bad spelling of my wording, till the date that I go bad by (x2)
The half baby poor
That half wells up in my navel
Reminds me of children coughing from comas
Up wing tips a tophat or both
Their loose teeth on their mind
Turning blood in the mouth
Of eigth grade picture takers
While knowing too well that their
Plaster cast childhood hand print has
Already been hung out to dust
On the yellowing walls of their go going gone grandparent's house
(x2)
I'll run till my wallet falls out (x2.5) (x2)