Sleeping through another Sunday a lost weekend approaching Monday accosted by a debutante offering more than I could want Senses leaving snail trails heaving up the debris of the night before crush my skull with feather weight poems I know but I`m not sure
From out of nowhere I`m stuck in traffic Life is a gas station and I`m on empty brush my teeth with wire wool and worry about my inclinations someone takes a toke of toxic television screams off the wall fading in the next drink I think but I`m not too sure
And it looks like mustard smells like mustard feels a lot like glue It looks like mustard burns like mustard comes on just like you
Standing idly on the corner disheveled and out of order Reveling in faded glory I get told another story senses leaving snail trails heaving up the debris of the night before crush my skull with feather weight poems I know but I`m not sure
And it tastes like mustard smells like mustard feels a lot like glue looks like mustard burns like mustard comes on just like youTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
