The Grave And The Constant

(album: Come Find Yourself - 1996)

I used to wear dress blues, I used to get my cues from the dudes in D.C. with the wing tip shoes
My boss said it was Parris or Prison and the judge said: "son you better make a decision"
I chose the former because I heard it was warmer, April in Paris, hell South of the border
They put me together, tougher than leather
Set me on your ass because they didn't know better

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on...

I hold the fort left, right and centre
The number running hardass punk, flygirl bender
Check the photo finish I'm in this to satisfy parole, not posing not playing the role
See I got more gumbas than Bobby De Niro and if I was you I'd act like Nixon and Spiro
So drink your rock and smoke your pot and chill where it's shady
I got more endurance than In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida baby

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on...

I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down...

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on...

We're up to no good, with no place to go but down...