Wasted on a parkbench in May Stuck between a Texaco and the Eastside hotel
And the used-car salesman He's a-talkin' to you Wavin' a cigarette around Sayin' there's not a lot more you can do Alright
Thinkin', is this all that here is? I'm kinda feelin', it should have been so much more than this And whatever drove you Is now turnin' you 'round Man, if you ever make it back unharmed There's no knowin' what you'd find
(Chorus)
I said at least for a minute, man, I'd rather not be talking to you Because we're going out of business and I'm lookin' for excuses to live And mama's only son is never comin' home again
Sleepin', or not sleepin' at all Stayin' awake with your punk-rock-trash And your push-up routine Man, you always knew to have a bad, time didn't you And it didn't really matter where you are Or could you make it down the street Could you make it that far?
(Chorus)
Hey what's wrong with you? x3
Ah you're not meetin any good people Just a-wasting on a parkbench in May Just get up in the mornin' Fine-fine-fine Just five more minutes
Getting too much sleep Sleepin' on your feet Always into trouble Always in a bubble Always taking smiles Always telling lies Just give me a minute
(Chorus)
Hey what's wrong with you? x3Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
