Grinds are out, my eyes are poppin' I wanna take the train or the plane I don't wanna shoot it. We crash we burn 60 hours a minute, if this train don't stop I guess I'll pop forgive me. Bust out the flute, the magic pipe, conjure of the things that fly. I'm skin and bones, got no home, don't pity me. The guns are out, the goblins too, so are you. Well its not too late, I wanna change, deliver me... get up slide down, what are you hidin? Don't you know we'll burn it slow from here till tomorrow. We crash, we burn 60 hours a minute, don't you know we'll burn it slow from here till tomorrow.