Can you cut that tendon at the back of my hip nI can’t run away, my bones congeal nThe stakes are simple, shit and bile nBut you just don’t get it (No you just don’t get it) nnYou must hook up with me for a year round summer n’Cos when the cold comes, you stay and sit number nBut I’m sure ice would melt in your glove nAnd you just don’t get it (No you just don’t get it) nnAnd it just can’t hurt any worse than before nStrike a match and bolt the door nYou get nothing back ‘cos you’re gonna go down nBy my own hand (By my own hand) nBy my own hand (By my own hand) Yeh nnSo I’m one bad gig out of the Jason recliner nOne bad song and I’m back at the diner nYeh, eating your scraps, cleanin’ your crap nBut you just don’t get it (You want chips with that?) nnI hate your ambition, hell I even hate mine nMakes me holograms and little things and water out of winenBut you won, yeh hon, well fuck it I’m done nAnd I just don’t get it (No you just don’t get it) nnAnd it just can’t hurt any worse than before nYou get it now, I was nothing more nYou get nothing more, you’re gonna go down nBy my own hand (By my own hand) nBy my own hand (By my own hand) nnPills for pills sake (pills for pills sake) nLiquor for God sake (liquor for God sake) nYour tryin’ to fix a shark wound nWith a cotton ball, Yeh nnMy own hand (By my own hand) nMy own hand (By my own hand) nnSo get me to the airport and throw me on a plane nDo the sentimental tango and send me off again nI’ll bounce right back ‘cos I’m gonna go down nBy my own hand (By my own hand) nBy my own hand (By my own hand) Yeh nnBring on the new sound