The sun shines on San Francisco
Like a light at the dentist's office
Glaring into an open mouth
And then the drill powers on
You're staring down the barrel
Of Harry's gun
And he asks you
Do you feel lucky, punk?
Come on and do what you want
If it makes you feel good
How could it be wrong
Come on and do what you want to
I threw my cares off a cliff
I didn't care who I hit
A tourist shouted in French
But it's all Greek to me
Invoice received, checks are cut
Case closed, open and shut
And if you need me
I'm watching TV in the oven
With a gun to the back of my head
Fuck
You're staring down the barrel
Of a bastard's gun
And he asks you
Do you feel lucky, punk?
Come on and do what you want
If it makes you feel good
How could it be wrong
Come on and do what you want to
I threw my cares off a cliff
I didn't care who it hit
A Taurus shouted in French
But it's all Greek to me
