Must've been on mushrooms when you wrote that pile of junk

Got rock candy brains and that head of yours

Full of holes, full of holes

Terry cloth's about the only comfort I'm allowed

What with all the rain and this house of yours

Full of holes, full of holes

I'm about through being your plaything

I'm about through being your gin

I'm about through being your water

Do you want to spend another night under the porch?

We could light a candle and this rotten wood

Up in flames, up in flames

Your orange fingers are glowing hot

I think your sneaker's on fire

Up in flames, up in flames

I'm about through being your plaything

I'm about through being your gin

I'm about through being your water

One breath after lights out

The rest under night's spell