Come on like gangbusters laying it thick Arboreal sleastacks(?) lost in the sticks It’s warm for a Witch trial Don’t you agree? Cold are the hands that would ever touch me You got the energy of a classic creep With sex vibe for miles and shark eyes asleep No intuition No need to sleuth Poor is the man who would sully my youth A one-minute story is all that you are A song undeveloped beyond the first bar For all of your hassle What did you win? Woe is the man with the Cheshire cat grin You criticise life You criticise pain You criticise situations you’ve never been in The dames with the dilettantes Will come soon enough All right The panic is leaking From every clear pore You’re Emma’s weakened acetylene torch(?) Surrender the crucifix On the scorpal arise Alright I’m in love with the people I’m in love with a saint I’m in love with a soldier From Baltimore Baltimore