Sheriff John Brown always hated me,
For what, I don’t know:
Every time I plant a seed,
He said kill it before it grow
If you feel that it’s real I’m on trial
And I’m here in your prison
Like a coin in your mint
I am dented and I’m spent with high treason
The evidence before the court is
Incontrovertible, there’s no need for
The jury to retire
The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the crimson king
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the jester that showed you tears
Sometimes, I feel the ocean in my blood
See rain from the sky above, her salt brined tears
And now those tears leave a taste on my tongue
Like the warm rush you get from black opium
Black opium
I’ll wait for the ocean to rise up
And greet me as it rose up before
We’re never alone, even when you’re alone
We’re never alone… watch the ocean
I used to sing to the mountains, has the ocean lost its way?
I’m swimming out on a blue, blue ocean
You’re sailing out on a blue, blue sea
Silhouettes and a vulture hoping
He’s gonna pick the bones of you and me
Oh, let me flow into the ocean
Let me get back to the sea
Let me be stormy and let me be calm
Let the tide in and set me free, set me free
The tide is high but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
I’m not the kind of girl who gives up just like that
Oh no
Now it’s just me and you
You can be my #1 girl,
That’s right
Be my #1, be my #1, be my #1
'Cause one is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do
One is the loneliest number, whoa-oh, worse than two
Won’t you be my number two
Me and number one are through
I never get a single think that’s new
Even Jake, the plumber, he’s a man I adore
He had the nerve to tell me he’s been married before!
Everyone knows that I’m just
Second hand Rose
When times go bad, when times go rough
Won’t you lay me down in tall grass
And let me do my stuff
I’m just second hand news
I’m just second hand news
Shocked me too, the things we used to do on grass
I don’t want your secondhand love
Don’t bring me secondhand love
You don’t bring me flowers.
You don’t sing me love songs.
Anymore.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn