Lonely wrists of gold parking lots full of prostitutes
Go on down the line, have your pick of the night
And take her home ripe for the picking
Thoughts are shifted iodine reality cloud nine sky time
Once more this is a call
Complication please inform us
Complication please direct us out here on our own
Out here on our own,
The bullet in my heart was always meant for your head
The bullet in my heart was always meant for your head