We transferred in Stamford, anticipating our New Canaan. Excuse the interruption of your reveries, but the conductor’s been instructed to give this decree: The powers who deem profitability have asked for you to please display your pedigrees. And I will wake in profound confusion, and I will drink from the glass they give, and I will taste their proud infusion, and I will wonder whose life I should live. The envelope pushes back, sick and tired of being conspired against by all the hacks.
I like a world that is murder, and I find myself a willing right-hand man. Speaking low late at the hideout, laying down plans that I don’t quite understand. And the enmity that they send to me when they say that things will never, ever be, and the enmity that they send to me, have they considered that it’s gonna be the end of me? How many licks does it take to get to their core? How many licks can I take and keep coming back for more? The envelope pushes back, sick and tired of being conspired against by all the hacks.