Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with,
but there was bad blood in him someway
he got into the magic bullets and
that leads straight to Devil's work
just like marywanna leads to heroin
You think you can take them bullets and leave 'em, do you?
Just save a few for your bad days.
well...

Well, now we all have those bad days when we can't hit for shit.

The more of them magics you use,
the more bad days you have without them
So it comes down to finally
all your days being bad without the bullets
It's magics or nothing.
Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,
kid, you're hooked, heavy as lead

And that's where old George found himself.
Out there at the crossroads.
molding the Devil's bullets.
Now a man figures it's his bullets,
so it'll hit what he wants to hit.
But it don't always work out that way

You see, some bullets is special for a single aim.
A certain stag, or a certain person
And no matter where you aim, that's where the bullet will end up.
And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser's wand,
and point where the bullet wants to go

(George Schmidt was moving in a series of convulsive spasms
like someone in an epileptic fit
with his face distorted, and his eyes wild, like a lassoed horse
bracing his legs but something kept pulling him on.
And now he is picking up the skulls and making the circle.)

I guess old George didn't rightly know what he was getting himself into,
the fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads.

Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with,
but there was bad blood in him someway
he got into the magic bullets and
that leads straight to Devil's work
just like marywanna leads to heroin
You think you can take them bullets and leave 'em, do you?
Just save a few for your bad days.
well...

Well, now we all have those bad days when we can't hit for shit.

The more of them magics you use,
the more bad days you have without them
So it comes down to finally
all your days being bad without the bullets
It's magics or nothing.
Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,
kid, you're hooked, heavy as lead

And that's where old George found himself.
Out there at the crossroads.
molding the Devil's bullets.
Now a man figures it's his bullets,
so it'll hit what he wants to hit.
But it don't always work out that way

You see, some bullets is special for a single aim.
A certain stag, or a certain person
And no matter where you aim, that's where the bullet will end up.
And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser's wand,
and point where the bullet wants to go

(George Schmidt was moving in a series of convulsive spasms
like someone in an epileptic fit
with his face distorted, and his eyes wild, like a lassoed horse
bracing his legs but something kept pulling him on.
And now he is picking up the skulls and making the circle.)

I guess old George didn't rightly know what he was getting himself into,
the fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads.

I've waited through the wars of winter
I've watched the cherry blossoms bloom
I cannot wait here any longer
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I know what lies beneath Manhattan
I know who's buried in Grant's Tomb
I wonder if they'll wait a while to clear away my crocodile
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

Your Uncle Henry lived in Moscow
Your Aunt Ludmilla lived therе too
Irina grew up in Wisconsin
I'm leaving at the rising of thе moon
The final moments in a doorway (The final moments in a doorway)
The sacred light of afternoon (The sacred light of afternoon)
Something starts to shake the leaves, you tug upon your T-shirt sleeves
And shiver 'til the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

I took the family balalaika
Those strings would never stay in tune I hung it up on the piano
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I had a job once in Penn Station (I had a job once in Penn Station)
Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon (Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon)
Every time my shift began, I'd see that quiet businessman
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
And I hope you know your brain's not bulletproof

I've waited through the wars of winter
I've watched the cherry blossoms bloom
I cannot wait here any longer
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I know what lies beneath Manhattan
I know who's buried in Grant's Tomb
I wonder if they'll wait a while to clear away my crocodile
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

Your Uncle Henry lived in Moscow
Your Aunt Ludmilla lived therе too
Irina grew up in Wisconsin
I'm leaving at the rising of thе moon
The final moments in a doorway (The final moments in a doorway)
The sacred light of afternoon (The sacred light of afternoon)
Something starts to shake the leaves, you tug upon your T-shirt sleeves
And shiver 'til the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

I took the family balalaika
Those strings would never stay in tune I hung it up on the piano
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I had a job once in Penn Station (I had a job once in Penn Station)
Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon (Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon)
Every time my shift began, I'd see that quiet businessman
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
And I hope you know your brain's not bulletproof

Removed from [email protected] for not being an article, which is fair, that's a rule there. It does not seem to be a rule here, I hope this is okay to post.

Can you just go home defeated?
Take your pride and eat it
Crawl back beaten
Sources are depleted
Can you take the final hit and admit that you were wrong?

Don't even call it even
Bleedin' is believing
Former well-being
We're closing for the season
Can you take the final hit and admit that you don't belong?

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
You're gonna have to leave it
You know you'll never need it
Wait til you see what we've planned for you

And its heinous
So come on, come on comeupins
You really are the star of the show right now
It's an estrangement
Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
And I am sorry to enjoy this
But, what would you have me do?
What would you have me do?

Can you just go home hated
Half intoxicated
Hopelessly outdated
And not appreciated
Can you take the final blow and know that you fucked up?

Go state the overstated
Keep it complicated
The over educated
That hope you'll never make it
Can you take the final blow and know they won't be shutting up?

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
You're gonna have to leave it
You know you'll never need it
Wait til you see what we've planned for you

And its heinous
So come on, come on comeupins
You really are the star of the show right now
It's an estrangement
Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
And I am sorry to enjoy this
But, what would you have me do?

Baby's outta town but I see the light on
What are you up to now?
Headin' for the gun, I can see rock bottom
No one will help you now

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
Gonna have to leave it
You know you'll never need it
Everything has been cut and dried for you

And its heinous
So come on, come on comeupins
You really are the star of the show right now
It's an estrangement
Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Yeah
Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
And I am sorry to enjoy this
But what would you have me do?

Hold tight
It's New years Eve
It will be cold tonight
Kill the heat
And shut out all the lights
And cut the phone line too
Alright
We don't need nothing but cyanide
Pulled out teeth won't be identified
What would you have me do?
You got it

Hold tight
It's New years Eve
It will be cold tonight
Kill the heat
And shut out all the lights
And cut the phone line too
You got it

Alright
We don't need nothing but cyanide
Pulled out teeth won't be identified
What would you have me do?
You got it

Hold tight
It's New years Eve (You got it)
It will be cold tonight
Kill the heat (You got it)
And shut out all the lights
And cut the phone line too (You got it)
You got it

Alright
We don't need nothing (You got it) but cyanide
Pulled out teeth (You got it) won't be identified
(You got it)
What would you have me do?

What would you have me do?

What would you have me do?

Can you just go home defeated?
Take your pride and eat it
Crawl back beaten
Sources are depleted
Can you take the final hit and admit that you were wrong?

Don't even call it even
Bleedin' is believing
Former well-being
We're closing for the season
Can you take the final hit and admit that you don't belong?

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
You're gonna have to leave it
You know you'll never need it
Wait til you see what we've planned for you

And its heinous
So come on, come on comeupins
You really are the star of the show right now
It's an estrangement
Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
And I am sorry to enjoy this
But, what would you have me do?
What would you have me do?

Can you just go home hated
Half intoxicated
Hopelessly outdated
And not appreciated
Can you take the final blow and know that you fucked up?

Go state the overstated
Keep it complicated
The over educated
That hope you'll never make it
Can you take the final blow and know they won't be shutting up?

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
You're gonna have to leave it
You know you'll never need it
Wait til you see what we've planned for you

And its heinous
So come on, come on comeupins
You really are the star of the show right now
It's an estrangement
Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
And I am sorry to enjoy this
But, what would you have me do?

Baby's outta town but I see the light on
What are you up to now?
Headin' for the gun, I can see rock bottom
No one will help you now

Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
Gonna have to leave it
You know you'll never need it
Everything has been cut and dried for you

And its heinous
So come on, come on comeupins
You really are the star of the show right now
It's an estrangement
Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Yeah
Beaten six ways to Sunday
Beaten six ways to Sunday now
And I am sorry to enjoy this
But what would you have me do?

Hold tight
It's New years Eve
It will be cold tonight
Kill the heat
And shut out all the lights
And cut the phone line too
Alright
We don't need nothing but cyanide
Pulled out teeth won't be identified
What would you have me do?
You got it

Hold tight
It's New years Eve
It will be cold tonight
Kill the heat
And shut out all the lights
And cut the phone line too
You got it

Alright
We don't need nothing but cyanide
Pulled out teeth won't be identified
What would you have me do?
You got it

Hold tight
It's New years Eve (You got it)
It will be cold tonight
Kill the heat (You got it)
And shut out all the lights
And cut the phone line too (You got it)
You got it

Alright
We don't need nothing (You got it) but cyanide
Pulled out teeth (You got it) won't be identified
(You got it)
What would you have me do?

What would you have me do?

What would you have me do?

Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
Short people got no reason
To live

They got little hands
And little eyes
And they walk around
Tellin' great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little feet

Well, I don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
'Round here

Short people are just the same
As you and I
(A fool such as I)
All men are brothers
Until the day they die
(It's a wonderful world)

Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
Short people got nobody
To love

They got little baby legs
And they stand so low
You got to pick 'em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That got beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin' peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
They're gonna get you every time

Well, I don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
'Round here