Can you say for serious
That you can't tell the difference
In women who can't understand
That their skin ain't the skin
Of just any man who asks for it

Can you tell me, son, what do you with it?
And is it any ease to know
You've got the cold press in your hands?
Oh, I am going to do my best
Not to desert you in the middle of this mess
I've got a map, but darling, what good is that?

If I couldn't tell you where to point it at
If I couldn't tell you how I'm gonna get back to Arkansas
Or New Orleans, or anywhere to make my own bed in between

Lyrics submitted by artslut

Things Will Get Worse Before They Get Worse song meanings
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