She's got to love herself   too bad the lens got in her way   time changing off her head   so cut off your ears and issues   this conversation's done   we've covered heads she's covered tails   she's cut off her conscience son   deep in your head and your still crying but you don't have the right   you take sides and spill it at the sink from the spite?   from the role of the honor and the gluttonous heap   you would use the whole barn up and you love to count sheep   so count sheep     this diamond's not for sale   a big advertisement in our heads   one lie won't tip the scale   for rich little beggars making big bets   they're out to mark the score   fat cat's away dead mice decay   recouching on the course   awake in the bed and lay there cryinging but you don't have the right   go on open your finger for another big bite   you run all kinds of red lights except the ones on the street   when you run out of exits you can always count sheep   so count sheep