the Jack knife, the bitch of a wifenThe outtuned whistle of borrowed strife.nThe days bare, the nights unfair,nThe times you're painfully aware.nnWell, I'm gonna tell you what I am lookin fornI'm gonna tell you what I am lookin for,nWell, I'm not lookin for...nnThe cake's cut, the penny's luck,nThe concerto's line's a passing (f)uck,nThe empty shell, the glimpse of hellnAnd now I know you all to well.nnWell, I'm gonna tell you what I'm lookin fornI'm gonna tell you what I'm lookin for,nWell, I'm not lookin for...you.