That's the way it begins -

you try to behave,

yeah, you try to fit in.



But when you rise and stand

you find a lock-step march -

no room for jazz.



Born bad-

with a slight-o-hand

I go from jam to jam

with a crash, boom, bam.



Born bad -

I dodge a sucker punch

and drop a bomb, like Liston,

on an animal hunch.



I've been down.

Yeah, I've spent some time downtown.

I've covered sacred ground,

soft and slow and round.



I gave up.

Yeah, I learned to give it up,

thinkin' that's the final cut.

But it turns out I was wrong.



Born bad -

that's the way it began,

stuffed a young pink lung

down a rank glue bag.



Born bad -

this is where it all lands

for a bull headed, corner hangin'

problem child man.



I grew hard.

Over time my scars toughed up.

When gettin' even just wasn't enough,

I had to choke my conscience off.



I've come far.

Yeah, I had to travel far.

Peel through layers sick and raw

just to taste and touch once more.



Born bad -

like a synchro-mesh shift

that's stuck in third

just smokes and burns.



Born bad -

with a cig-hangin' lip.

A talk-back baby on a

star-crossed ship.


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