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I will rise from the swamp where they dumped my private plane |
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I'll be clutching the life preserver in my teeth |
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And I will find the highway |
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And I will flag down a truck |
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Worry lines on my forehead, blank stare underneath |
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And when I come back to town |
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I'm gonna cast my burden down |
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A little worse for wear |
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Practically walking on air |
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I will thank my ride and crawl my way back inside |
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To the guts of the building where my enemies |
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Hide in the dark like roaches |
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And I will signal the camera crew and everyone will do |
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What he's been trained how to do |
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Sweat dripping from my face as my moment approaches |
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Click your heels, count to three |
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I bet you never expected me |
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A little worse for wear |
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Practically walking on air |
