When you were little she sold you out
Out by the ounce the [bad word] and alcohol was free
Or maybe it was your imagination
Friend of the family but now the foe
She gets inside your mind with everything you smoke
That's why your [bad word] from some words she spoke

The rain is controlled by misty
Who's one but seems like three
She always has to be behind every little problem I face
I'd drive to Ireland but there's a lake between the land
She's hired private eyes to follow me

Maybe I'll go to Paris and France
And meet the Pope and someone to be with for life
place far away where she never could find us here

Everything bad is a "misty"
She's hiding in that tree
I'm swimming at the beach and she's got submarines and high technology
 [bad word] my life and in my dreams at night
And everywhere I go I'm always six degrees, from misty