Gold Chains by Beck
People lookin' fresh in their lightning bones
Had the T.B. Blues, I couldn't find no phones
Women driving down in their whipflash rides
Had a wooden nickel finger pointing from all sides
Tryin' to get together into some kind of scene
I shook my spice last Sunday like a broken machine
I got 50-foot woofers and I'm lonesome tonight
I put my hands in the air like a hazard light
I'm going back home
With my gold chains swinging
I'm going back home
With my gold chains swinging
I'm going back home
With my gold chains swinging
I'm going back home
With my gold chains
(What's your name? Cheetah and Tammy.)
Stealin' my water from an empty well
I got birds of life and a chain gang bell
Smokin' cigarettes like an ass in the road
I got debutantes with the elephant's gold
Feast and famines all holding their hands
Filling in the blanks with swollen glands
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