Green Corn

Sometimes I think of all the places where I don’t want to go
Then I think of all the things I don’t want to do
And when I think of all the people I don’t want to meet
I close my eyes and go to sleep

Tully, baby, you’re trapped behind your golden bars
I’m the prince of poverty hangin’ out in bars
Your life’s a Mercedes, a mansion with a pool
My life’s on a bus stop just waiting for some fuel

Your obviousness disgusts me I see through your macho lies
I’ll fight everything you stand for
There’s something in your purse baby, my head is getting sore
Maybe what we had was just green corn