They're pickin' up pieces of me,
While they're pickin' up pieces of you.
In a bag you will be, before the day is over.
Were you looking for somewhere to be.
Or looking for someone to do.
Stupid me, to believe that I could trust in stupid you.
And on the back of my hand,
Were, directions I could understand.
Now that old buzzard Johnny Walker,
Has gone and ruined all our plans.
Our best-made plans.
Don't leave me here, to cast through time,
Without a map, or road sign.
Don't leave me here, my guiding light,
'Cause I, I, wouldn't know where to begin.
I asked the Kings of Medicine.
They're pickin' up pieces of me,