Hey hey hey, check it out, tickets to the ride sold on the side hooked yourself up

I'll run till my wallet falls out (x2.5) (x2)

I lost a switch blade running across a field one time (x4.5)

I lost a (x10)

My ghost? A bad spelling of my wording, till the date that I go bad by (x2)

The half baby poor

That half wells up in my navel

Reminds me of children coughing from comas

Up wing tips a tophat or both

Their loose teeth on their mind

Turning blood in the mouth

Of eighth grade picture takers

While knowing too well that their

Plaster cast childhood hand print has

Already been hung out to dust

On the yellowing walls of their go going gone grandparent's house

(x2)

I'll run till my wallet falls out (x2.5) (x2)