Gone Jackals You Don't Know A Thing About Me
You let me slide, baby, on a sheet of thin ice. Askin' no questions and receiving no lies. You speak to me in parables, you manufacture truth - my time is your's, just wake me up when you're through. You tell me what I do. You tell me what I think. But you don't know a thing about me. You read me the future from the palm of my hand. You plunge new depths to remain in my plans. You draw your conclusions from imaginary scenes and piss your confusion into the stream. You're hurlin' it hard, what you believe to be true. But you don't know a thing about me. Last, lovely, night my skin was bare, the cool wind satisfied. I stood at the edge, loosened a wing and braced for flight. Long live the night! Next of kin had not been notified - I soared like a bird. The light of the moon's the light of my life. I'll tell you anything that you'd like to hear But you don't know a thing about me.
