When we got to Boston, we knew we'd missed a turn   No one back in traffic school had told us   There are signs that can't be learned      Geography's too stubborn and people are too clear   So let's go find a road-side motel with a clerk who won't tell   Days will turn into nights, nights will turn into days, weeks, seasons      [Incomprehensible], we'll stay for years, and years      Red and white for blood cells, red and white for wine   They could be the whole damn spectrum   If we'd all just let them, Lord, it's such a crime      Working on an inch less waistband   In the strip mall wasteland outside of this town   Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more   Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in      The fix is in, the fix is in, my fix is in, the fix is in   My fix is in, the fix is in, my fix is in, my fix is in      Let's go back to Boston, forget about the turn   Atlases and gas station attendants are none of our concern      We'll forge a little life, dear and double down our debts   And I guess it stands to reason   That the passing seasons will slowly dull regrets      Working on an inch less waistband   In the strip mall wasteland outside of this town   Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more   Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in      The fix is in, the fix is in, my fix is in, the fix is in   The fix is in, my fix is in, the fix is in, the fix is in   The fix is in, my fix is in, the fix is in, my fix is in   The fix is in, oh, the fix is in      Working on an inch less waistband   In the strip mall wasteland outside of this town   Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more   Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in