Don't Make Me a Target - Spoon

Here come the man from the Star

We don’t know why he go so far

And keep on marching along

Beating his drum

Thugs and sticks and bats and balls

For nuclear dicks with dialect drawls

They come from a parking lot town

Where nothing lives in the Sun

Don’t make me a target

Don’t make me a target

When you reach back in his mind

Feels like he’s breaking the law

There’s something back there he got

That nobody knows

He never claimed to say what he says

He smells like the inside of closets upstairs

The kind where nobody goes

Don’t make me a target

Don’t make me a target

Don’t make me a target

Don’t make me a target

Don’t make me a target