They're checking for traps for one of the chaps In the backroom Jimmy's counting the stamps Death in the living room, his favorite sport A happy end The point of collapse There's no space in my car, all my papers are false What am I doing? You're carrying a bag In a free climbing, two-timing Three legged waltz Can I leave a message? But don't use my voice Don't trust a man, don't give him the choice Of removing his jacket when he says he's one of the boys