I jump when you circle the cherry. I sing like a good canary.

Glory to you. Got some revelation put into your hands. You want to make her suicide blonde.

Some people hear their own inner voices. Such people become crazy, or they become legends.

Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets. Got enough guilt to start my own religion.

She hands you this coat. She gives you her clothes. These cars collide. Pretty in pink. Isn’t she?

Kaleidescoping then shassez in a blink. The glasses fly suddenly. They tossed and turned a sight.

But you gotta be down. A nickel gotta be true. Cause otherwise this B ain’t got no time for you.

Cyclone ranger. That’s why I’m turning Japanese. I really think so.