Organized Crime

We've been standing 'round

This corner a long time

Just wasting the hours

Like livestock on a hillside

And if we weren't sucking fire

We couldn't get no higher

And that's our kind of organized crime

In a crowded room we don't fit in

Where the money clips come out when the lights go dim

And swingers, freaks, and heathens

Count themselves as our kin

And that's our kind of organized crime