Sorry

They say you are an unlovable wretch Maybe that's so, but surely there's a catch You said that nothing's even written into fate Maybe that's so, for somebody so great I bet we both hate the government And I don't even know what you mean I carry sand in my pant's pockets And you think that the desert is clean I'm sorry about your nightmarish trips And your match-burned little finger tips If I bring the cigarette, will you bring the lighter? If you start the flame, then will it burn brighter? I've listened to you avoiding all my questions I'm sorry about the way you don't mind pain I've read about your sorry imperfections And I'm sorry it seems that we might be the same I'll drink beer or lemonade or anything to wash my mouth And I never know what to do with my hands Watch out for the security, cameras around my house But I sure hope that my bedroom beats the sands Well, sir, I don't know if you're enjoying Texas But I welcome you here to my home and land