I stumbled through your... through your station. I bet my horses on...on you waiting. When you took our pictures down I saw the writing on the wall. You had new designs for me, if you had design at all. I spent the night in Hell strapped down by your sheets. Soaked in Stella's whisky, belted by defeat. Oh, you could have called. You did it to yourself, young Pan. You did it to yourself, old man. Now I've scenes of wet gripped flesh, a gut full of deceit. Let me ask you kitten, did you look down at your feet? Oh you could've called before I zip these busted boots up and find them to the street. Let me ask you kitten, did you look down at your feet? Oh, you could have called