Here tongue told of scrambled eggs – cigarettes Not her notebook full of I just heaven’t yet’s She greats me in the morning with Listerine kisses Her game genie daddy grants her endless wishes Jesus took a shower down venice beach Washin’ off the salt from the waves Her daddy’s in the church underneath a flag You know what they say, God, country, grave Skyscrapers cover up the harvest moon Feeling like a seed cast on stone A night so coldm it was itchin it was itchin It ain’t just the roots that won’t leave her alone No, it’s not the girl and it’s not the war It ain’t the general or his orders It’s not the getting lost, or the cost, or the fate It’s the thought you hate Would take it all back but it’s no good I would take it all back – if I could Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
