You ain't shit man, your story's a joke You should package it with a last smoke and six feet of rope
Stay awake little misfit Her lips wet a very particular mischief Sis' wiggle an index if your limbs let Or settle for a warm burgundy bubble out of her beak instead
Tequila to free the worm Had his liver scuba suit up on the sabbath, his personal pale rabbit At the hole's end her delicate mitten tipped For sticking pissy liquor in him every day at 6 Silly, predictability is a bitch Fully pattern had her awkwardly christening the small talk chalk board She said, "this is less of a fixer-upper than my last bar" Funny, you're less of a fixer-upper than my last whore Crass is similak to the milky wit of today's youths, both chuckle out Next couple on the house, Next couple on the couch Swapping social coma rants, phobias and soldier doubts Jokes and corporate mogul bans, motor-mouths The key to open is closure Pussy plus ye' she hid in a broken toaster And later wake neighbors over chemical flavor to fuck sickly Tooth-nail beauty through the skin deep
An object at rest tends to remain at rest And an object in motion tends to remain in motion With the same speed (slow down) With the same speed (slow down) With the same speed (slow down) And in the same direction (slow down...)
Now the dizziness is similar to a whimsy with a pretty twist If pretty is a bidding war for meteors of iffy sniff And cigarettes and pills on the speaker silhouetted by The muted television and the rickety Venetians Between tweaks he sweeps at Home Depot and reads Mostly Biblical but not cause he believed But found the lexicon of Jesus-heavy literature fly Feverishly sponged up the information high Fade into the cradle of his same-deck trainwreck She pet him with a mechanical tape deck play back Plus the depressing sum of the two combined paychecks Stung less with Little Debbie D-cup put her legs back Drunk, put her on the business end of his favorite couplet from Corinthians Sunk into the comforts of a kid again Enough to share the stuff that truly interest him This is where the vision of a shiny happy Christmas end Tispy little princess wasn't listening, just yes-ing him The more she fed him "yes," the more he fed her fresh barbiturates Assuming it was them against the world into oblivion But he was just a stupid simian to let her live with him
Pirouetting madly on a mirror full of baggies In the valley of the irritable aggie Any sincerity, miracles or memory buried in the backseat By the hazardous material was seriously gasping Here he is in action, trying to patch up the attraction Figured he would win her back if he act in common passion Penned a couple chapters about a sassy pair of magnets with a cottage on a hill and a picket fence and a marriage Never having gathered her rabid enthusiasm over language was fashioned around the aspirin in his cabinets Asked her to read it expecting flattery after the fact This is an exact imitation of how she react: "You ain't shit man, your story's a joke You should package it with a last smoke and six feet of rope" And she knows five chores, more coke and all fours Said "leave me on the floor and leave the dope by the door" Bounced all shook up, she cook up aluminum Consuming every skull in crossbones in the room in under two minutes He fuming with a flipped lid Storm into the crib and found her body on the tiles Like "no, she didn't" Yes she did
Stay awake little misfit Her lips wet a very particular mischief Sis' wiggle an index if your limbs let Or settle for a warm burgundy bubble out of her beak insteadTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
