What a waste of a smoke machine
Took the taste of the dopamine
And left me high and dryCall the cops, call the cavalry
Spin the tops that'll dazzle me
And give me a new supplyThere's a layer below, underneath all the layers that I knew
So I pay when you go but it only convinces me that you are
Good for me
Good forJust a little bit of what I need
To soothe an appetite that I can't feed
Isn't that good for me?Accessorizing before the fact
Alibis couldn't stay intact
As guilty as a gunSo you dig, so you move some earth
Tunnel down out of Leavenworth
Or set the fuse and runBlasting deep underground, getting down to the Continental Shelf
I'll pretend I'm surprised by the lies that I'm telling to myself
That you're good for me
Good for me
Good forUnder cover of your rifle fire
I slipped the traces and I tripped the wire
Isn't that good for me?And in the searchlight I can see
The rotors kicking up debris
The cloud, the dust, the blades are meGood for me
Songwriters
Aimee Mann, Jonathan William CoultonPublished by
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