Don't sell me anything
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Your one time offer so uncalled for
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You call it peace of mind
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'Cause I can see your house from here
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Now all the leaves have fallen, dear
|
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I can see you're just a little privateer
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As your confession draws more near
|
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Time and again I find I'm listless
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or rather fistless
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In time, oh that's what I find
|
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So carry me to Mecca
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With what you may divine
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Take me with you, take me with you
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Don't leave me behind
|
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Oh 'cause I, I don't want your life insurance
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Home, auto, health, flood and fire insurance
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Oh just make, please make this basic inference
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And speak of me in the present tense
|
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Oh 'cause I, I can see your ships from here
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Now all the weather so bright and clear
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I can see you're just a little profiteer
|
As your confession draws more near
|
As your confession draws more near
|
As your confession draws more near
|
As your confession draws more near
|
|
-----------------
|
The Privateers
|
| Andrew Bird |
