Your palms could read the same as mine

I could help you wash the dirt from the plot lines

But you hold grudges by the fistful 

From smudges on a crystal ball

Your palms could read the same as mine

And I'll carve my own 

Oracle bones, oracle bones

You're cursing at the sky

You show no gratitude for stars that won't align

Demanding an apology 

Of horoscopic prophecies

You're cursing at the sky

Rabbit, you gotta run, run, run

Find shelter, quick, before the hunter comes

Get on your soft and steady feet

They're selling as commodities

Rabbit, you gotta run