About as subtle as an earthquake I know,
My mistakes were made for you
And in the backroom of a bad dream she came
And whisked me away enthused 
And it’s as solid as a rock rolling down a hill,
The fact is that it probably will hit something
On the hazardous terrain
And we’re just following the flock around
And in-between,
Before we’re smashed to smithereens
Like they were
Then we scramble from the blame
And it, the fame that put words in her mouth,
She couldn’t help but spit them out,
Innocence and arrogance entwined,
In the filthiest of minds. 
She was bitten on her birthday and now,
face in the crowd she’s not
And I suspect that now forever the shape she
Came to escape is forgot.
And it’s a lot to ask her not to sting and give
Her less than everything,
Around your crooked conscience she will wind