|
Girl, meat me in the disco |
|
We can trim our branches |
|
And dangle from the gallows of cellophane/cello frame |
|
Bricks |
|
Laughing in the smug walk |
|
Looking at the traumatized ballistic |
|
Prima-donna in the corner with a stick |
|
Girl, be careful what you wish for |
|
You don't know what you give |
|
Until it's gone |
|
And when it's gone |
|
You'll never get it back |
|
Again, just because you're faithful |
|
Doesn't make it square or righteous |
|
It's just a matter of perception |
|
Lalalala |
|
The man tugging at me |
|
With the degenerated facial presence |
|
And shoulders wide |
|
Looking for a ride |
|
Is sliding through the park with a cynical laughter |
|
Automobiles and scattered heels |
|
... Miss Daisy |
|
Everybody looks so |
|
Everybody looks so good |
|
Good morning, casanova |
|
In the backseat of a choken convertible |
|
A rolling dice between two thighs |
|
A naked couple ride with the caramel |
|
The war, the war |
|
It has begun |
|
I feel like dancing, jumping, have some fun |
|
We are the over night collectibles |
|
And now it's time to feed the |
|
We can't let go |
|
She's a star |
|
She plays piano |
|
Bad to the bone |
|
She's alone |
|
And got no places to go |
|
If that's me |
|
In five years |
|
I'll blow my head off |
|
But I'm not like her at all |
|
I still got places to go |
|
Girl, meat me in the disco |
|
We can trim our branches |
|
And dangle from the branches of cello-frame |
|
Bricks |
|
Laughing in the smug walk |
|
And looking at the traumatized, ballistic |
|
Prima-Donna in the corner with a stick (stick) |
|
She's in the corner with a stick (oh, yeah) |
|
She's in the corner with a stick (*giggle*) |
|
She's in the corner with a stick |
|
She's in the corner with a stick |
|
(*giggle*) |
