With the cops on your lips it's holy routine If you'd stop all your trips you could see what I mean forgot not to slip 'bout under 18 You had it in your hands
Leave it up to It's a known disease it in your fleece Don't worry about the customs police, don't I'll tell you just how good it can be, lazy summer
But you got no relief from the pain in head And it's hollow and greased and it that you're dead But you make fun and tease and the that you said always stab your back And I've been holding out for love ever since I had a heart