Fliptop Twister Lyrics
| Song | Fliptop Twister |
| Artist | Rockapella |
| Album | Primer |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Altman | |
| Fliptop twister of love! | |
| We met in Vegas, I tore my best red suit | |
| And lady luck had just smacked my face. | |
| The lanky croupier was dealin' on you hard | |
| I thought that maybe I could be your ace | |
| Then like a slingshot right in the butt of fate, | |
| We're tradin' winkers and countin' beans. | |
| We hit the window, and all night long | |
| We bounced upon a mattress full o'paper greens. | |
| Ahh, the morning sun was an egg yolk we'd never seen, | |
| We're chugging cokes like we're sippin' champagne | |
| I got a steak on my eye, but don't you ever cry | |
| I'll make you happy as a duck someday | |
| I was a sucker for the pickup, | |
| The stickup, and every saucy hiccup, | |
| The foam-mouth mongrel of love. | |
| Ain't nothing worse in my brain than | |
| When I feel too sane, | |
| And how I wish I'm gonna find my home. | |
| I think it suits me - Australian ostrich boots. | |
| I think it suits you - a diamond ring. | |
| I think it suited the man who said so much so fast | |
| To steal away with every last damn thing. | |
| Aah the morning sun was an eyeball we'd never seen, | |
| But there was red in the sclera of love. | |
| We pulled the one-armed bandits | |
| And we ate our sandwiches | |
| Of knuckles in a black leather glove | |
| You were a runner for the mixup, | |
| The fixup, and gettin' boys' wicks up, | |
| A lift-off locust of love. | |
| Ain't nothin' worse in your mind than | |
| When you're feelin' fine, | |
| And now I think I've finally found my home | |
| Yes Sir! and now I think I've finally found my home | |
| Now it's amazing how you've become my mom, | |
| Crazy wacky how I'm my pop. | |
| I still got raspberry seeds between my teeth, | |
| And now I'm slurpin' from a bowl o'slop. | |
| The funky monkey still flips his chips about, | |
| I guess it's just in my genes to roam. | |
| So like a buckshot right in the butt of fate, | |
| I think I wish I'm never goin' home, No Sir! | |
| I think I wish I'm never goin' home... | |
| I was a junkie for the break-up, | |
| The make-up, and every little shake-up, | |
| The flip-top twister of love. | |
| Ain't nothin worse in my mind than | |
| When I'm feelin' fine, | |
| And now I wish I'm never goin' home |
| zuo qu : Altman | |
| Fliptop twister of love! | |
| We met in Vegas, I tore my best red suit | |
| And lady luck had just smacked my face. | |
| The lanky croupier was dealin' on you hard | |
| I thought that maybe I could be your ace | |
| Then like a slingshot right in the butt of fate, | |
| We' re tradin' winkers and countin' beans. | |
| We hit the window, and all night long | |
| We bounced upon a mattress full o' paper greens. | |
| Ahh, the morning sun was an egg yolk we' d never seen, | |
| We' re chugging cokes like we' re sippin' champagne | |
| I got a steak on my eye, but don' t you ever cry | |
| I' ll make you happy as a duck someday | |
| I was a sucker for the pickup, | |
| The stickup, and every saucy hiccup, | |
| The foammouth mongrel of love. | |
| Ain' t nothing worse in my brain than | |
| When I feel too sane, | |
| And how I wish I' m gonna find my home. | |
| I think it suits me Australian ostrich boots. | |
| I think it suits you a diamond ring. | |
| I think it suited the man who said so much so fast | |
| To steal away with every last damn thing. | |
| Aah the morning sun was an eyeball we' d never seen, | |
| But there was red in the sclera of love. | |
| We pulled the onearmed bandits | |
| And we ate our sandwiches | |
| Of knuckles in a black leather glove | |
| You were a runner for the mixup, | |
| The fixup, and gettin' boys' wicks up, | |
| A liftoff locust of love. | |
| Ain' t nothin' worse in your mind than | |
| When you' re feelin' fine, | |
| And now I think I' ve finally found my home | |
| Yes Sir! and now I think I' ve finally found my home | |
| Now it' s amazing how you' ve become my mom, | |
| Crazy wacky how I' m my pop. | |
| I still got raspberry seeds between my teeth, | |
| And now I' m slurpin' from a bowl o' slop. | |
| The funky monkey still flips his chips about, | |
| I guess it' s just in my genes to roam. | |
| So like a buckshot right in the butt of fate, | |
| I think I wish I' m never goin' home, No Sir! | |
| I think I wish I' m never goin' home... | |
| I was a junkie for the breakup, | |
| The makeup, and every little shakeup, | |
| The fliptop twister of love. | |
| Ain' t nothin worse in my mind than | |
| When I' m feelin' fine, | |
| And now I wish I' m never goin' home |
| zuò qǔ : Altman | |
| Fliptop twister of love! | |
| We met in Vegas, I tore my best red suit | |
| And lady luck had just smacked my face. | |
| The lanky croupier was dealin' on you hard | |
| I thought that maybe I could be your ace | |
| Then like a slingshot right in the butt of fate, | |
| We' re tradin' winkers and countin' beans. | |
| We hit the window, and all night long | |
| We bounced upon a mattress full o' paper greens. | |
| Ahh, the morning sun was an egg yolk we' d never seen, | |
| We' re chugging cokes like we' re sippin' champagne | |
| I got a steak on my eye, but don' t you ever cry | |
| I' ll make you happy as a duck someday | |
| I was a sucker for the pickup, | |
| The stickup, and every saucy hiccup, | |
| The foammouth mongrel of love. | |
| Ain' t nothing worse in my brain than | |
| When I feel too sane, | |
| And how I wish I' m gonna find my home. | |
| I think it suits me Australian ostrich boots. | |
| I think it suits you a diamond ring. | |
| I think it suited the man who said so much so fast | |
| To steal away with every last damn thing. | |
| Aah the morning sun was an eyeball we' d never seen, | |
| But there was red in the sclera of love. | |
| We pulled the onearmed bandits | |
| And we ate our sandwiches | |
| Of knuckles in a black leather glove | |
| You were a runner for the mixup, | |
| The fixup, and gettin' boys' wicks up, | |
| A liftoff locust of love. | |
| Ain' t nothin' worse in your mind than | |
| When you' re feelin' fine, | |
| And now I think I' ve finally found my home | |
| Yes Sir! and now I think I' ve finally found my home | |
| Now it' s amazing how you' ve become my mom, | |
| Crazy wacky how I' m my pop. | |
| I still got raspberry seeds between my teeth, | |
| And now I' m slurpin' from a bowl o' slop. | |
| The funky monkey still flips his chips about, | |
| I guess it' s just in my genes to roam. | |
| So like a buckshot right in the butt of fate, | |
| I think I wish I' m never goin' home, No Sir! | |
| I think I wish I' m never goin' home... | |
| I was a junkie for the breakup, | |
| The makeup, and every little shakeup, | |
| The fliptop twister of love. | |
| Ain' t nothin worse in my mind than | |
| When I' m feelin' fine, | |
| And now I wish I' m never goin' home |
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