More Californians leaving
On train tracks to nowhere
I met up with ol' Gavin
He was too wired to sleep
So, his hands started gesturing
Despite his speech's total starkness
His hands were making such a fuss
Like a deaf mute tries to speak

He said, "Son, I've made a life
Of lying to people's faces
And knowing what their dreams were
By the way they heard my lies
So, if you don't mind my saying
You can see my homeless spaces
For donations of your money
I'll tell you more lies"

So, I handed him my wallet
And he took out my last dollar
He mentioned LA fires
As he set the bill alight
Although was all I had left
And his hands became expressive
Said, "If you're gonna play this game, boy
You gotta learn Art of the Theft

You got to know when to scold 'em
Know when to goad 'em
Know when to walk away
And know how to run
You never count the money
When it's paid under the table
They'll be nothing for accounting
When the schilling's done

Every liar knows
That the secret to conniving
Is knowing what to say today
And knowing what to tweet
'Cause every one's a spinner
And every one's a schmoozer
And the best that you can hope for
Is your lie not to reap."

And when he finished speaking
I knew we were in Limbo
Money from the LA fires
Was buried somewhere deep
And somewhere in the darkness
Ol' Gavin he rolled snake eyes
But in his final words
I knew that his BS was deep

You got to know when to scold 'em
Know when to goad 'em
Know when to walk away
And know how to run
You never count the money
When it's paid under the table
They'll be nothing for accounting
When the schilling's done

You got to know when to scold 'em
Know when to goad 'em
Know when to walk away
And know how to run
You never count the money
When it's paid under the table
They'll be nothing for accounting
When the schilling's done

You got to know when to scold 'em
Know when to goad 'em
Know when to walk away
And know how to run
You never count the money
When it's paid under the table
They'll be nothing for accounting
When the schilling's done