Lyrics

I know why you do it, baby.
You are so used to the run.
You go get brandied, dandy up your dander,
still you have no control in these sort of matters.
Itchy trigger: to be the one to leave without any holes.
When it gets too close you've got to cut it go.

Become three degrees below a snake.
You try and fight the way you made it.
This was never gold anyway. Your outlook is renegade.
Can not blame you for mistakes you made.
This was never gold anyway.

Don't be shy about your convictions and
you won't be loved into asphyxtion.
Everyone who has, knows.
You can't test good love by
dipping in your toes.
What you figure to be true love
turns to heaven who knows.
And it gets too close you've got to cut it go.