Picked up on the third ring

Heard your bracelets jingle jing

The sound of your voice hanging when you knew that it was me

The silver armor glinted in the noonday sun

The squire closed his eyes and dreamed of Michigan

The soldiers' mouths watered as they gazed upon the gates of the borned king

She bawled in the corners of legit estates

Her nipples set out like dinner plates

She pulled in close, then hesitates

Inside of the walls of the borned king, lord she drawls

Abandoned swings, men's room stalls inside the walls

The villagers, they screamed

In the grocery stores and streams

The gracious mothers grieved, closed the doors and wept for the spring

Sometimes when I look at old pictures of you I could just crawl right through the frame

All the boys and girls in the cab on cocaine

The procession lied out like reverent thighs

The magistrates with the batted eyes

The field stained red like cherry pies

Inside of the walls of the borned king, lord she drawls

Abandoned swings, men's room stalls inside the walls

Walking home alone

Don't pick up the phone

Walking home alone