Crooked Knife

Trace the southern line
Inches down your back
Couldn’t read the signs
Prepared for an attack
One-two-three-four-five
Balled into a fist
Solitary crime, automatic grip

Taken for a bride
Mistaken for a wife
How can you be straight at the Crooked Knife?
Who is there to drive?
Everyone is pissed
Solitary crime, automatic grip

Poaching on the left
Encroaching on the right
We’ve got you surrounded every single night
Baby on the run, baby on your hip
Solitary crime, automatic grip

California rain
Will it ever come?
I see you spend your days staring at the sun
Water from the eyes, water from the wrist
Solitary crime, automatic grip

Never even knew
Never even tried
What is there to do when your lover dies?
Everything is fine
Take another sip
Solitary crime, automatic grip

Solitary crime, automatic grip
Solitary crime, automatic grip