you put me down with a stick you got

that safety pin grip you know me like you

know ice on a fire dust myself off with a

spoon you shot your darts at the moon

and this piece didn’t tear too soon now

it’s dust the rubber burns peeling out

behind the wheel and you’re looking for

the holes that I don’t have caught on

underneath my heel but now i’m moving

on moving on from your safety pin inside

the scoop outside the rage mothballs

galore caught in the drain your hat’s on

tight like super glue you dug the pit you

stepped in it and now you’re out with the

prick you’re going down without this ship