She's almost an addiction,
like a traveler to the miles
It could be her conviction,
she's so eloquently styled
She keeps her thumbs in my pocket,
I keep my visions down her throat
We talk of flying in a rocket,
I think of sinking in a boat
I want to know Mr. Jesus, will you sell to me
a little of your angel dust?
Give a little taste just to please us
You're the father of grace so don't act like that's unjust
I'm almost addicted, I never stay with what is real
Could be my lack of restriction,
because I like the way this feels
My mind's on Mars but sometimes I listen,
you know how much I hate to fly
I'm gonna shine, then I just might listen,
she says "Why, why, why?"
"I know I make you angry,
I just feel misunderstood
I'm sure that's how he feels too
because if I was him I know would"
She's almost addicted,
I can see it when my baby smiles (at me)
It could be her conviction,
cause my darling she's so eloquently styled (you see)
She's got her thumb in my back pocket,
I've got all my crazy visions down her throat
She says baby can we get that rocket?
All I can think of is that boat...
You act like that's unjust,
you let your people rust,
we lose all of our trust
Oh but that's just the way she is