Sometimes you make me feel like a wrench
About to loose the nut
It isn’t going to be the measure of all-in ranging
It is going to be the measure of the going
And all the weird wrestlin’ matchin’ time
Oaths that you open without
A measure for their worth and value.
Life is for livin’ but it ain’t the useful
Tickler who will win it
It is the good, the bad and the ugly
Users of the field of dream-saked
Light before the wicket-tuned
Left-wing-timered findly and finally
Wronged people who will.