She's almost an addiction, nlike a traveler to the milesnIt could be her conviction,nshe's so eloquently stylednShe keeps her thumbs in my pocket, nI keep my visions down her throatnWe talk of flying in a rocket, nI think of sinking in a boat nnI want to know Mr. Jesus, will you sell to mena little of your angel dust? nGive a little taste just to please usnYou're the father of grace so don't act like that's unjustnnI'm almost addicted, I never stay with what is realnCould be my lack of restriction, nbecause I like the way this feelsnMy mind's on Mars but sometimes I listen, nyou know how much I hate to flynI'm gonna shine, then I just might listen, nshe says Why, why, why?nnI know I make you angry, nI just feel misunderstoodnI'm sure that's how he feels too nbecause if I was him I know wouldnnShe's almost addicted, nI can see it when my baby smiles (at me)nIt could be her conviction, ncause my darling she's so eloquently styled (you see)nShe's got her thumb in my back pocket, nI've got all my crazy visions down her throatnShe says baby can we get that rocket? nAll I can think of is that boat...nnYou act like that's unjust, nyou let your people rust, nwe lose all of our trustnOh but that's just the way she isn