Impala

I hold trouble like Impala trunks
Kicking songs, like dirt, in the wind
Yeah I sing/float with them
like twenty-three cursive c's
I was made for the rafters, baby
If do or doom, strike a match
And turn the whole place all hollow
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
And now we're preaching $$$$
A fortune for the one that never was
We're stacking tall as Chicago
We're stacking until the paper waves hit the sun
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)
I don't think so
I don't know so much
I can't get around it
I can't...
(I can't get around...)