>>8771093 lb

I told Althea that treachery

Was tearing me limb from limb

Althea told me, "Now cool down, boy.

Settle back. Easy, Jim."

You may be Saturday's child all-grown

Moving with a tinge of grace

You may be a clown in the burying ground

Or just another pretty face

You may be the fate of Ophelia

Sleeping and perchance to dream -

Honest to the point of recklessness

Self centered to the extreme

Ain't nobody messin' with you but you

Your friends are getting most concerned

Loose with the truth

Baby, it's your fire

But, baby... don't get burned

~ Garcia-Hunter