You hail from my pocket: a stale pursuit.
Is it good doctrine to spare me the truth?
You’re more than off-topic; you’re offroute,
But the couple of months I put stock in, I don’t wanna lose.
I say, “Come to my city,”
And you don’t say no like a man;
You say, “Hope you understand that I’m busy…are you with me?”
“Yeah, just deep in thought—do you think you can forgive me?”
CHORUS:
My own intentions
Cast you as a medicine man,
But I know prevention
Comes through like no medicine can.
I wore it on my wrist;
I swore it with my lips;
Before we came to this
I already came to grips with
The question
Of whether I could really fit in your plan.
I caught the illusion when we spoke
Of the things we would do and where we would go.
I’m more than assuming; I now know
You get high on the one you’re pursuing. You were spitting so...
…many words from the wise,
But never were those any words that I heard with my eyes.
It’s a hot white lie,
Born from a heat that makes a man blind.
CHORUS:
Intentions
Cast you as a medicine man,
But I know prevention
Comes through like no medicine can.
I wore it on my wrist;
I swore it with my lips;
Before we came to this
I already came to grips with
The question
Of whether I could really fit in your plan.
I know prevention... [x3]
I said, “Come to my city,”
And like a man, you say, “Hope you understand that I’m busy.”
Is it good doctrine? Is it good doctrine to spare me the truth? [x4]