When I say long, I mean so long.ĭon my petticoat. Meant a lot when you were hauling a long con. Sucker punched to pucker up, can’t forget the swelling. Go on without me now, a tattoo on your lip. The other piece, it doesn’t fit where I hoped. Stole my split necklace half to see where I’d help you go. Songs are for telling and records for show. Cotton swabs and vinegar sometimes take the scratch out. Go on without me now, a tattoo on your back. All the puzzle pieces laid out in the street, soaked in the acid rain, trampled by both our feet. Three weeks you lived next door, and only now just thought to float your head around, ask me what’s up. (Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me.) Monosyllables exhaust so don’t talk, don’t talk. No ostentation-help me help make sense of revenge in my veins, revenge in my veins. Keep the lines moving, we’re all supposing you’ll shoot your shot in space. (Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, don’t talk.) Who do you wanna prove you’re a big dog to? You turn the screw but you’re using the wrong size tool. Plans of the universe are not clear to you. (Don’t talk to me.) Storm atop a broke umbrella. If we’re adults then why macromanage every conviction? (Don’t talk to me.) Breaks are out till feet below. Who do you wanna prove you’re a big dog to? You turn the screw, but you’re using the wrong size tool. Nihilistic greeting to a flytrap hungry for a fist. Yes in your backyard you take handshake squeezes to extremes. Now sit your ass down.īorn-to-scab solipsists are boogying for big commission. Ready for notes? The love you claim is for no one other than you and cronies who excuse your mess. Laughing like fair play’s a joke, cuz the dive bar plays sob songs your buddy wrote. Just an arch of the lips, acting nice as fuck. Is this what love’s like?įalling in love with LA where the cars cut you off from the right lane. Head to your weekend home, pass out for the strike. It’s no small claim to say your acolyte is a voice in your head you drown out when your work’s not sitting right. Dead letter office got your friends united. Now what’s at stake if your star descends? Another helltrap takes you in. Build the bonds with plasticine, kicked back without needs.įalling in love with LA, where a wash and fold quiets your enemies. So give a hand for every vintage popped on your dime. It’s no small claim to say you lost your touch. Buckle up in your helltrap with no escape, with no escape, with no escape, with no escape. Falling in love with LA, where the cars cut you off from the right lane.
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