Don't confuse that which I say
With any kind of truth,
And don't listen to me, anyways.
My friend, don't be used.
Don't take me seriously.
You must see this, my dear.
I promise insincerity
For a pocketful of ho-hums
And a mug of warm beer.
Have my guilt and my greed
Finally got the best of me?
If I were you, I'd stay,
If nothing else, to see
If the bad jokes and tack lines,
Something about black pines,
Would cease to draw me together;
My skin would rupture, my innards be free.
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