I know that it's bad That it's the kind that they can't operate on And I know it's real slow, honey Painful and real slow Styrofoam coffee cups And bagged
While I go over it in my head Walk through those doors and stand there staring And there ain't one soul that's in there dead My hand stays out, I keep
Well there ain't nothin' to this but your daughter And the life you would not give her Break your plans Traipsed across the continent, a squatter For
Well is it larger than a baby's arm? A few more cocktails will straighten you out And we'll get to the bottom of it Something better to disarm You were
You're going to take what you can get A hammered Styrofoam Beat into the West Live the highway in your home You're going to get what you deserve And not
In love with your pills Now I can get rid of myself If all of this kills Why am I so hard on myself? In this town, when the sun goes down You party, I
I dreamt last night of sirens By flashlight I had found you You just held my hand By the bright lights in some ICU Even the planless have a plan I can
True love will find you in the end You'll find out just who was your friend Don't be sad, I know you will, But dont give up until True love will find
Sunshine, don't you mind them Lie for me now, smile for me now Sometimes my feet don't touch the ground When you come around The devil's in your details
On a plane, somewhere over the sea Above the rain, the bottle sets me free I turn to stone, fall back in my seat The cuts are gone but somehow I'm still
Hey midnight Turn on your light Roll out you stars I look tired But I feel wired And my body hums Like it's coming undone Don't you lie to me Nothing
The crowded future stings my eyes I still find time to exercise In uniform with two white stripes Unlock my section of the sand It's fenced off to the
When Hollywood runs out of Indians When the bar stars melt and their golden hair turns into glass When Hollywood runs out of Indians When the bubble bursts
I'm a window, you're the frame I'm a gigolo, you're in pain I'm the highlights, you're the game If I'm a window, you're just the rain Everybody get off
When Hollywood runs out of Indians When the bar stars melt and their golden hair turns into glass When Hollywood runs out of Indians When the bubble
[spoken] And here's the weirdest part about that story, the guy was so upset that she ripped him off for his money she was actually wedged under the
You're going to take what you can get A hammered Styrofoam Beat into the West Live the highway in your home You're going to get what you deserve And
