dye your eyes the color of july   40 stripes an no one bats an eye   empty room with nothing on the walls   a telephone that no one seems to call      heavy doses of what may be   catching on to your sorcery   changin' me      lazy lover layin' in the grass   hopin' that this loneliness will pass   thunder fills the old ones with alarm   fingers trace the thinness of the arm      read my lips and tell me what to do   all these songs and i don't have a clue   loving you just never really paid   gonna get back my old job at the arcade