'saint Kansas (re-write)

Dorothy, you look too blown away; let's leave this joint, and take us a trip.
You're making me a man with a mission, and baby, I can tell that you're hip.
Let me throw back another shot of Jack, and get that warm glow in my guts.
You'll like me better when I'm tighter than
the Tin Man's rusted nuts.

      Let's leave the losers to their cowardly lyin'.
      I know a witch so sweet
      she could melt in the pouring rain, and
      she's got the sugar we need.

Dorothy,
you ain't
in Kansas, anymore.
Dorothy,
you know
'saint Kansas, anymore?

What?  Are you starin' at the golden road?  Think some wizard might take you home?
Yeah, that old man, he's got some power, but he's happy just living alone.
He pays me well to keep his lie alive, I'm the straw man who picks up his slack.
Got my degree, it means nothing to me, if  I can’t get this monkey off my back.

      So, while I crush a rose in the poppy field
      we can talk about nature and god,
      or the best planned lays of vi-ced men
      and the dreams we can lose when we nod.

Dorothy
you ain't
in Kansas, anymore
Dorothy
you know,
'saint Kansas, anymore?

      I'll confess:
            One January, I met a girl.
            Couldn't help but cut her a smile.
            She came looking for the Hollywood gamble,
            that Bette, she was so in denial.
            I took her home, showed her my etchings,
            walked her through my private museum,
            then I dropped her off on Norton, somewhere
            between Thirty Ninth and Coliseum.

Dorothy
you ain't
in Kansas, anymore...