Somebody broke in, but all that was missing were the polaroids The scene of the crime could be anywhere, at any time And I'm always salivating about maniac responsible I know that to attack is merely the desire to free one's self From infatuation that there's a thin line between a love tap And murder with a blunt instrument that a sharp stick in the Eye, kills the devil in the soul every time
And night after night, those hollow screams Echo out through deserted parking lots A paper oasis littered with lottery dreams And I'm always lacerating myself with memories And the demented visions of some woe-begotten Messenger of the lord who's now living down at the Hangover hotel, where everybody's living hand To mouth trying to get ahead
But shit, a quick jaunt down to the corner store To pick up a 40 of colt 45, a fifth of jack A bottle of aspirin, half a dozen condoms And a carton of cigarettes will bring you down real hard By about fifty bucks and then all you're left with is your dreams Adn you'll be dreaming amongst drunks...dreaming
Remembering the way it used to be...the way it used to be Shit...the way it still is...dirt, cheap deeds sloppily executed On sheetless mattresses...petty crimes of passion Bringing secrets to the surface with the blood and alcohol The scene of crime could be anywhere, at any timeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
