I open my eyes, and it's November, and I am in a freight elevator And I'm in Las Vegas, but I haven't won any money And everyone here is wearing clothing that I find confusing And I wonder if they've won any money
Jeff tells me, "It's not the drugs It's Monday morning, and you can't get up When your degree is staring daggers from the wall Somewhere sunk inside your heart, there is a teensy-tiny part of you that sure could use some coffee" (Yeah)
I open my eyes, and I am sweating; I must have been dreaming That punch I threw was... just embarrassing And all my dreams are always violent, but I'm not violent So in my dreams, I'm not so good at fighting
There's this one where you and I Are making brilliant love inside a 7-Eleven just past the city And I can't save us when that guy gets up and jumps out From behind the counter, gun in hand and grinning
Tell my sister I am with her, wherever she may go If not pulpit, then, sure as shit, where she leads, I'll follow Watch the corn grow in Ohio, let our kids grow strong and smart Playing intramural sports, while we build the arkTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
