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Taxi-cabs, the sharks of streets, with fins of fire they troll for fares |
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The blond haired girls that roam in herds and fix you in their golden glares |
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Hanging out with a new batch and starting out again from scratch |
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You disconnect from your own crew and keeping up is hard to do |
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Sell your past for a few grand with paper signed in a false hand |
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Welcome back, hijack a stool, your favorite bar with souls you know |
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And forward fast to 4 a.m., a |
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Nilsson disc covered in blow |
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Yeah, with fins on fire |
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The dark haired girls attack in threes, they cut your plays off at the knees |
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They meet you out in bars of foam and drag you further from your home |
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You're out alone, out of your depth, and |
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Satan laughed and |
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Jesus wept |
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Hey, yeah [?] taxi-cabs |
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Oh, whoa, whoa, you caught me in the aftermath |
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Yeah, yeah there is no outline to graph |
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It's been segued and cut in half |
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With fins on fire |
