Class act, it's mass attraction,
can't get a grip when there is no traction,
never gonna be great without some practice, out in the woods
in the big city lights, in dark alleys to have some fightin'
she didn't say yes, but there was some "might be"
gonna get the flu fucking around with you and your
magic bags and midnight snow felled high heel shoes.
You and your "what you wanna do" moods.
Dead celled class acts like "when you gonna drive me back?"
We gotta both go to see a man about a horse
I'll wheel you where when this thing runs its course.
Take that off, take that off. Or no means yeah,
where's your twenty, getting funny, getting sunny street sided
where everything never begs a morning after "why did."
I don't care about your sonny boy, you got a new toy
unboxed. I got a key for every lock, I got a knife for every knot,
and I don't care if you fucking walk, I'm just tryin' to bear out the talk.
Due diligence and a little deal, I'll make whatever you wanna feel,
peal out to gods, peel out to blackberry fields while ya seal it up tight,
I'm a class act tonight in palms and animal songs between trees.
Downtown howling at the moon, taking two of these.
Keys in my back pocket and hands in the front,
trying to make some sense of shit, sucking on a blunt,
we don't have to live, we don't have to front,
I don't have a gun, but I do have wants
and if I'm made in the shade with my hands on a wheel and a deal
up ahead with a body in my bed starting to stop seeing everything red?
Then, I'm a classy motherfucker. I'll drive ya home,
I'll wreck your dome, I'll make you sing my favorite song
and we'll change hands and make grandstands and odd demands
blacked out. We'll take it up with the big boss and make gold
out of every loss and in the means and ways and gifts
we'll make our own out of the party we slipped.
