I search for the truth I find no luck.
I search for solace in my friend the rock.
And I have a friend on the telephone. 
A crystal and some cash and my tomorrow's known.
Cross my legs and I am one. 
With what I was or I am to become.
And I have the stars and some pixie dust.
Oh, and Elvis nights on Thursday and it's a must.
Chorus:
Have your every thought just possibly. 
Your ideals are a twisted philosophy. 
By a man in a suit who loves currency. 
Or a woman who is called instability.