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lyrics

poor amanda, she almost died at the sight of my pride.
she looked inside and it was gone.
poor alyssa, the almost bride, had the time of her life
but not a wife's, she was alone.
poor cassandra, born without a rhyme or reason to get by.
so you cut the line.

and everything you touch turns to gold
what a beautiful soul, to be able to hold everything you touch now you own. what a beautiful crime.
you take your time, keeping what you find.
and i don't think you'll ever get old
i won't see you die, good friend of mine.

poor elena, the one who tried to leave me behind.
oh she was kind, said i was strong
and that i could build the cave on up.

and everything you touch turns to smoke
but you don't mind, lucky guy
the towel around your throat, no you don't mind
the rain could start to soak, but you don't mind

possession's not easily defined, but i'm holding someone's line. and the answer comes in
"mine! - not mine!"

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God Sags His Pants Records Seattle, Washington

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