man, I learned to walk with an anchor in my back pocket;
and man, I read palms during even the most brief handshakes;
and man, I ain't alive to pull the weeds around the spotlit.

well I'm wallowing, followin my little lost princess to the promise land.
hollerin my potent slogan, hell if Nostradamus can.
conquering these open roads, with throttle pin, to floor.
and I'ma win, right after I finish these chores.

take me to the basement.