You're checking in on the palm of your hand
It's paper thin like the sound of that band
You ask the club, "Do you know who I am?"
No triple A, gotta pay to get into the zone
This love wasn't born in a helicopter
'Cause I would love
For you to go to hell
The sober souls never open no doors
Don't own the walls and you think it's all yours
That deuce is gone where the rain up in smoke
You lost the case, in your face, they were playing a fool
This love wasn't born in a helicopter
'Cause I would love
For you to go to hell
You strut around like you're some kind of special
You think your touch has the Midas affection
You're cranking sounds, windows down, but it's minus ten
So you can go to hell
'Cause I would love
For you to go to hell
Sweet imagination
Sweet fascination
Come on, baby, come on, go to hell
Come on, baby, come on, go to hell
Come on, baby, come on, go to hell
Come on, baby, come on, go to hell
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