And I don't wanna go to war
And I don't wanna have to fight
'Cause I don't wanna be right
I don't wanna be right
So swerve a little in the road
The curve will take your cruise control
Or you could hit the ghost pine
I can see the headline
"Poor tree, man died"
Or maybe we move slow
Or we don't even go?
Or maybe we should fight
Somewhere in a field at night
Straw man coming for the scarecrow
Straw man coming for the scarecrow
No brains in the meadow
I was amenable, but this is petro-chemical
So now I need relief
You're so ethereal, it's so immaterial
It beggars some belief
Yeah
No change, yes grief
Reading aloud your chapter and verse
It's got me so beat down that I might order a hearse
I got no room and I feel all alone
Still it feels like you could eat me out of house and home
In my headline
