There’s blood on the mind
It’s 4 of a kind
They’re the worlds kindest hearts
If you’re on their side
It’s a horse drawn by carts
And the war always starts Friday nights
If that sounds like I’ve poured sour milk
Into your coffee then I’m sorry

You know there’s freedom to be felt with the foot on the throttle
And there’s truth to be found
At the bottom of a bottle

Everything is strange
I don’t want to change
Bigots can’t be choosers in the end

He falls asleep the cabbie takes him for a spin
Opportunity knocks it rarely ever rings
There’s life in the city but it’s soul is on the lam
When the powers of the hour say “we truly understand” and
If that sounds like I’ve poured sour milk
Into your coffee then I’m sorry