I assumed you knew this photograph of me in my new car
But I hate to say I miss you 'cause you don't need me anymore
You politely say I miss you but we know you don't mean that anymore
Like when the tock tic finally caught you
Then you weaseled through the door
Through the door of consciousness

San Francisco,
Oh you make it so
Oh you make it so long on me
Someone who smokes pot in the suburbs
Pot in the subway with me
Oh destructo, you're so destructive
Oh you so destructive to me

No destruction, in the waking hour
No destruction, in the waking wind
No destruction in the waking hour
There's no corruption on the waking wind

I'm talking to my grandma who lost her arms in the war
The aliens and armory that bond hers to God's door
Now you think that I don't know but I know you to know quite well
That I caught you sipping milkshakes in the parlor of the hotel

There's no need to be an asshole, you're not in Brooklyn anymore
You may take what you are given but you leave it on the floor
And I know you're gonna try to take my big mouse
Take the panels off my greenhouse

Oh but the door of consciousness isn't open anymore
Oh you think it's over, oh it's over with me
Someone who smokes pot in the suburbs
Pot in the suburb with me
Oh destructo, you're so destructive
Oh you so destructive to me

No destruction in the waking hour
No destruction in the waking wind
No destruction in the waking hour
There's no corruption on the mountain high

No destruction in the waking hour
No destruction in the waking wind
No destruction, no destruction

No destruction in the waking hour

Copyright: SC PUBLISHING DBA SECRETLY CANADIAN PUB.
Writer(s): Jonathan Rado, Sam France