well it’s all in you mind
it’s all in you mind
well it’s all in your mind
and i wanted to be
i wanted to be
wanted to be your good friend

well i cannot believe
you got a devil up your sleeve
and he’s talking to me
and i cannot believe

and i wanted to be
i wanted to be your good friend

you’re all scared and stiff
a sick stolen gift
and the people you’re with
they’re all scared and stiff

and i wanted to be
wanted to be your good friend

time wears away
all the pleasures of the day
all the treasures you could hold
days turn to sand
losing strength in every hand
they can’t hold you anymore

already dead to me now
‘coz it feels like i’m watching something die

love looks away
in the harsh light of the day
on the edge of nothing more
days fade to black
in the light of what they lack
nothing’s measured by what it needs

already dead to me now

amanda, light of the man’s life
make sure the faith in the light and make heard
the greatest woman
the greatest woman
to be the man’s greatest wife

i thought it all over, lord knows i’ve tried
it’s a awful great struggle in any man’s life
to look in the mirror in total surprise
at the great hair on her shoulders
and the great big big beautiful beautiful eyes

bazookas and fisticuffs
medicating in porsches
98-karat stick shift
chinatown late-night meals
alfonzo giving me a backrub
2 p.m. laser vizzaginal rejuvenation
triple album project
detonating’ tracks like these
magnums and barrettas
part-time hostages in pottery classes
blind date at the wax museum
norwegian hockey players
passed out in government limos
prime ministers with cryogenic faces
louis vuitton suitcases
autographs and paid vacations
divorce papers and synthetic lubrications
playing’ you like top-40 stations
ah… you know the deal
arabian nights
white satellites
voodoo is tight/tied?
airbrushed memories strewn like
pamphlets into fifth mississippis
time-lapse footage of duct-taped lies
animal frequencies pinching deodorized nerves
cosmetic procedures
on the cartilage of apocalypse
mannequin tycoons with airport-piano-bar mystiques
remodeling conjugal amaracus
flexing like suburban spartacus
getting smacked up by unemployed hand models
running out into the middle of traffic with beaujolais bottles
arabian nights
white satellites

your brains went black
when she took back her love
and put it out into the sun
the birds did fly
when the heavens all went dry
and the cigarettes were smoking’ by themselves
she’ll do anything
she’ll do anything
she’ll do anything
to make you feel like an asshole
call her name, she looks the same as you
question marks stretched across her skin
she dangles carrots
makes you feel embarrassed
to be the fool you know you are
she’ll do anything
she’ll do anything
she’ll do anything
to make you feel like an asshole