Came from the top of the deck

Warm and direct

No more shoes

No more news

No more blues



Iranian gown on your frame

Born to the game

No more shoes

No more news

No more blues--getcha back!



All my stray thoughts

They are unarranged

All my stray thoughts

They are impure



Give me sidearm compliments

Give an autopsy of the event

Such uneven principles

Time and time and time again

Spare me your contrarian thaw



Beautiful nerves, send you wild

Lost in a pile

Of old shoes

Of old news

Of old blues



A gallery of vivid dreams

Torn and extreme

No more shoes

No more news

No more shoes

No more blues

No more, no more, no more, no more

No more more more more blues



I was made for lovin' you, baby



I want my alka-seltzer!