Bullet Proof

Grew up in the cold

But always told

I'd be a scorcher

If life's insignificant

Then so's my psychological torture

I'm either a genius or a madman

And I probably teeter on that border

So in a few years they'll say honey clock

is a psychological disorder

So what if they knew the truth

And watch my hope

Get gutted in my youth

So now we get high

And gulp down whiskey in vermouth

Staying real but aloof

Because nowadays it's the only way

to stay bulletproof

So now it's my rein of terror

As I stand in this hail of gun fire

Bombs away But first read this flier Telling you to go get a brand new tire

From Fred Meyer

And go after everything that you desire