There is a desert in my mouth complete with tumbleweeds,
A billion grains of sand, cactus and coyotes,
There is a battlefield in my head complete with cannons and cavalry,
Helicopters overhead, and they're searching for yours truly,
Send me the bill for the mess we've made,
You survived the renaissance with souvenirs of powdered wigs and
Corsets for your cracked ribcage elegant figure,
Another living dead ballroom dancer shouting from escapes like
They've got the answer, come down and we'll converse, can you help
Me determine the measure of my worth, you know that our nightlife,
It runs into daylight,
We're the type of cats that bring an axe to a knife fight,
Its such a scene you second guess your vision,
I swear we're not dumb we just make bad decisions,
So go ahead and get me wrong, I'd rather not be gotten right.