lost sheep on fifth street peculiar and pained

i look her up when i can

twelve o'clock witching hou mercedes-benz

bobbing for pumpkins again



and i offer nothing but the shirt off my back

and the heart on my sleeve and the moon

and it's not a question of sin or suggestion

i just want one warm afternoon



not enough hours in one single day

for all of her fantastic schemes

as saviors and bad boys of butterflied strange

rush through her wild-eyed dreams

and i offer nothing but the shirt off my back

and the heart on my sleeve and the moon



she's falling she's falling

she's falling again

call out the crash crews and crash mannequins

my sweet flame fatale

she is falling again

around me inside me where nobody's ever been

nobody's ever been here



hypnosis in her soft-focus parade

helpless but i can't complain

can't move a muscle i won't even try

thirty-five bucks down the drain

hypnosis in her soft focus parade

helpless but she can't complain

drawn here by gravity she has no choice

burns up in friction and flame