We have some damage control to do One hundred hurricanes to clean up after Just you wait Wooden legs will do you no good When you try to walk on flames Thy will burn your substitutions and Touch your solid skin You can look back and See the wrongs made in your trail Creeping up your veins and Swimming though you And the flames are rising You're sweet on my tongue but Bitter at the back of my throat I will swallow my pride In a hypocritical stance Go down to the lake and Wash the poison off your skin and Try to make yourself Clean again