Picked up on the third ring
Heard your bracelets jingle jing
The sound of your voice hanging when you knew that it was me

The silver armor glinted in the noonday sun
The squire closed his eyes and dreamed of Michigan
The soldiers' mouths watered as they gazed upon the gates of the borned king

She bawled in the corners of legit estates
Her nipples set out like dinner plates
She pulled in close, then hesitates
Inside of the walls of the borned king, lord she drawls
Abandoned swings, men's room stalls inside the walls

The villagers, they screamed
In the grocery stores and streams
The gracious mothers grieved, closed the doors and wept for the spring

Sometimes when I look at old pictures of you I could just crawl right through the frame
All the boys and girls in the cab on cocaine

The procession lied out like reverent thighs
The magistrates with the batted eyes
The field stained red like cherry pies
Inside of the walls of the borned king, lord she drawls
Abandoned swings, men's room stalls inside the walls
Walking home alone
Don't pick up the phone
Walking home alone