Nobody’s offering à la carte
take it all or receive not one part
just want a little of Caesar’s stash
Filthy lucre baby I want cash
but they say you got to get the career
always obligations never in the clear
I could chase after the long or short con
be the opposite of a paragon
I could dust off my alchemical stills
close my eyes to the time I can’t do or that poison kills
I’ve got no stomach for crime or fraud
But I swear the next straight gig’s gonna kill me by God
So until providence hands down my little part
I guess I’ll try to piece it bit by bit à la carte
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