Hey hey hey, check it out, tickets to the ride sold on the side hooked yourself up I'll run till my wallet falls out (x2.5) (x2) I lost a switch blade running across a field one time (x4.5) I lost a (x10) My ghost? A bad spelling of my wording, till the date that I go bad by (x2) The half baby poor That half wells up in my navel Reminds me of children coughing from comas Up wing tips a tophat or both Their loose teeth on their mind Turning blood in the mouth Of eigth grade picture takers While knowing too well that their Plaster cast childhood hand print has Already been hung out to dust On the yellowing walls of their go going gone grandparent's house (x2) I'll run till my wallet falls out (x2.5) (x2)