I will keep breaking cups until my left hand looks wrong

Until my miracle drugs write the miracle song

I will keep rolling down until my best shirt rolls off

Until the conga line behind me is a thousand chickens long

Like Brian Jones

I was born to swim towards a month ago

Towards the Rolling Stones

Towards me and you

Swimming alone

And I will keep burning trash until the master comes around

And I would pound my masterpiece down flat between my hands

If it meant I could only roll again

You gotta let me roll down

Like Hinckley’s son

I was born to dance with a candy gun

Towards the president’s ass

Towards me and you

Me and you

Me and you

I'm swimming alone

Send me the basslines of the future

My good sense doesn't win me any wars

And crazy only left my brain here all over the goddamn floor

Clean over all me baby

Look over a little more

Look over there