When the feeling comes it always leaves,
to the top of the hill,
the hill of thieves.

Brush that curious out.
Hurry away.
You've got the hole in your head to feel the breeze.


If you're gonna ride, baby,
ride a/the wild horse.

I/we can't drink no more,
but I'll/we'll try.
You can't find us, baby,

in the ba!@&(t.
And it/I slug your in your $#&@ing head.