When the feeling comes it always leaves,
to the top of the hill,
the hill of thieves
Brush that curious out
Hurry away
You've got the hole in your head to feel the breeze

If you're gonna ride, baby,
ride a/the wild horse
I/we can't drink no more,
but I'll/we'll try
You can't find us, baby,
in the basement
And it/I slug your in your fucking head