I guess I met a couple bona fide angels But they all seemed kind of fat and fatigued And now we're trying to match their mouths from the screens Match their heads to their dreams
Everybody's searching out of the softest seat All dolled up for the funeral feast Everybody's stabbing at the biggest piece Clever kids kissing on a bleak retreat
Now I'm not really sure we were lovers Or if it was just some kind of car crash Now we're trying to find a DNA match To match the heads with our hats
Everybody's reaching for the sharpest knife Legs wide open on the opening night Everybody's bathing in the laser lights Clever kids screwing with some new device
Sunday morning, sidewalks splattered Feverish in stylish tatters Didn't this used to sting like grammar? I remember when it mattered
Can't get over what's transpired Left home virgins, came back vampires Belt it out like back stretched choirs We're either dead or really tired
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Everybody's coming on their navy sheets Everybody wants to suck on something sweet Everybody's coming on their navy sheets
Everybody's coming on their navy sheetsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
