there are no curses herenwe are alone, Sloan, incognito, Guidonthat girl for rent, the firmamentnspread open like a fleshy fannand my sweet know it all, he has the gallnto die and die and die and die and die and die and dienof boredomnnkickin' up the red dustnpointed shoes like a Vaudeville babynit don't matter if you can dance when you got shoes like thatnthose shoes'll dance for you, they'll dance you right awaynnyour papa ain't comin' home no morenyour papa ain't comin' homennso I asked for Doctor No Onenwith his gut bag of catfish scalersnndon't do it, don't do itndon't cut menI'm stronger than a blind man dancing wildnstronger than his heartachennyour papa ain't comin' home no morenyour papa ain't comin' homennI said there are no curses herenI told a lie, slyna little fib of omissionnit didn't hurt, they did their worknI was mumbling under the sedativesndon't let me feelnI don't want to feelnnyour papa ain't comin' home no morenyour papa ain't comin' home