Lyrics
It's a friend of confusion and an eyesore / The prophets foretell of the fall of Graham-Bell and the mother of whores / The users are many, the pleasures are few / A lover's upset and you start to forget just who's calling who / Don't settle your debts on the phone / Call it strange intimation / Feel a tug on your line / It's a shame when a man takes a pair of tin cans and connects `em with twine / Don't settle your debts on the phone / There's a time in the night when you open your mouth and nothing sounds right / Fire on your tongue and ice in a glass / Don't settle your debts on the phone / You'll wind up abject and alone / Don't settle your debts on the phone
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