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You get the ankles and I get the wrists. You get the ankles and I get the wrists. You get the ankles and I get the wrists. You come down to this.
Nerves are up and the eyes all screwy Blood like a panful of boiling ratatouille
Hang from the axles of a box car Follow the dotted line Like a steer to Chicago to the hooks of the Chicago man
I get all tripped up my eyes turn to water rug burns from a shag rug struck dumb in the presence polyester burns from a jacket rub the skin thin break down in a diner then I pay the bill
cashier toothpick stuck in the ground tiny lawnmower to mow me down I could get lost in a lunchbox lie low in the mittens in the lost and found
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