Jets To Brazil - Problem Is

maybe some day we'll meet again
when our two roads hit the same dead end
and o-oh i'm counting the days
cuz you've got something that i've never since seen
a willing heart and a part that's clean
we're both good at counting days

with an ounce of intuition and your parents' ammunition
you come here hungry wearing naked ambition
hysterical to meet you
can you get me in?
i got three years tied to the mast of this town
she's a handsome ship but i'm going down
and o-oh she ain't coming with me
there's a time to fight and a time to get out
but you'll fight till we're all knocked out
and oh i keep counting teeth

everyone's an artist with a pristine vision
a cellular intelligencer with a fire in her kitchen
too many chefs on dope. and the rich don't listen