This conversation just turned again Why do we always end up talking about me and my lack of friends? And I finally found a point to pin you down, and
This conversation just turned again. Why do we always end up talking about me and my lack of friends? And I finally found a point to pink you down, and
Oh, a million miles an hour, a thousand times a night. I watch them burn red, Red rockets in my sight. 1944, Second World War, At Ansio, we kicked in
They got their white pine wooden boy. Yeah you're a puppet dancing, dangling on the company line. They find your hole. They make a fist and shove it
When dreams control their dreamers Felonies turn into misdemeanors Because no one wants to believe they're all that bad. That's when daddy tells his
Scary eyes where'd she get them scary eyes? 'Cause they look and they laugh, they don't cry. Though they can be very nice, or even very very nice. They
Tie me up, you better tie me up. Oh the dreams, at night I make you sorry in my dreams. If you could see the ways I make you sorry in my dreams. You
Thirty five thousand names in the Name your baby book she picked the one most perfectly precious To help Peanut keep every last promise her mommy had
Listened to me. Saw right through me. Didn't know me like you thought you knew me. That's the danger of calling someone friend. Hard heart, no pulse
Faithlessness is the alien creature In my drive in feature It fills the screen when you invade my dreams. But paranoia is my own decision, I gave you
I won't let it bother me. Let it remain a mystery. Will always be nonsense to me. I don't care. I can't care now that I see. That it ain't like I thought
Well ain't that just fucking peachy I just get turned 'round right. And I'm turned around again. I feel my skull getting itchy, keep me up all night.
Foolish daydreams at nighttime, talk to the moon Outside my lurks my future Can?t close my eyes cause it might come And I?d miss it for sleeping, that
They can't hear the rumbling voice of history Say give your babies a kiss for me Because they have led the devil to your door. Rosie woke up; she pored
Oh, it's filthy in here. Garbage wall to wall, and I don't wanna be the king of dirt no more. Things are different. There are people here who deserve
Cuda, a hemi 426, 500 ponies, illegal slicks, fastback. And you want to be as bad as your ride. Tell all the ladies to get inside or get back. But stupid
Hear footsteps creak the floor The shadows give away Someone outside the door Won't let 'em in Life damaged, gears to grind A run down broke machine
I don't wanna feel no more It's easier to keep falling Imitations are pale Emptiness all Tomorrow's haunted by your ghost Lay down, black gives way
