She's built for speed like a black castrum doloris Good for the needy, like Nietzsche, Freud and Horace But I'm skinflint broke, making no money, making jokes But baby I won't joke with you
My feet are burning like a Roman hypocaust But the Romans are gone, they changed their name because they lost She writes letters like a jack chick comic Just a bunch of propaganda, make my fingers histrionic like this And this
I mean, she's my baby But she makes me get avuncular And when my monkey's jumping I got no time to make it up to her
I fantasize about the hospital The army, asylum, confinement in prison Any place where there's a cot to clear my vision
I spit out Whatever's in my mouth Just like that Black Bat Licorice Yeah, that Black Bat Licorice That Black Bat Licorice That Black Bat Licorice Yeaaaah
I want to cut out my tongue and let you hold onto it for me Cause without my skull to amplify my sounds it might get boring I've got the wit of the staircase with atomic clock precision And the phases of the moon directing all of my decisons like this
When I need to know, I play dumb like Columbo And get my feelings hurt and move to New York like i'm Dumbo Don't you want to lose the part of the brain that has opinions? To not even know what you are doing, or care about yourself or your species in the billions
Yeah, I have to spit out Whatever's in my mouth I have to spit it out (behave yourself) Just like that Black Bat Licorice That Black Bat Licorice That Black Bat Licorice I never liked it, I never will Now state the same damn thing with the violin
Whatever you feed me I feed you right back But it will do no goodTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.