Dĺžka piesne: 04:54
He gets close, but I choke.
Take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home.
I want you to love me or I want you long gone.
You say your real name is John?
Hey, thanks John. Go sing songs.
Go rock on.
Roll your crew on down the road to the next sold-out show.
Think you can get up above me?
Well, I want you to know that you’re a figure of fun to everyone beneath the Lone Star neon broken blinking sign.
But they wish they were you, like I wish you were mine.
What a dumb thing to do.
How come I shout “goodbye!” when God knows I just want to make this white lie big enough to climb inside with you?
Another day lost and gone, clipping pages from the news for the senator’s son, while he just strolls through the lobby and glad-hands everyone. Another day tossed and done.
I go home, take off clothes, smoke a bowl, watch a whole TV movie.
I was supposed to be writing the most beautiful poems, and completely revealing divine mysteries up close, but I can’t say that I’m feeling that much at all at 27 years old.
I’m discussed with desire by the guys who conspire at the only decent bar in town, and they drink MGD’s and they wish they had me, like I wish I had fire.
What a sad way to be.
What a girl who got tired.
So I wonder who you got your hooks in tonight.
Was she happy to be hooked, and, on your arm, did she feel alive, her head all light?
Take your shit, take your clothes and get out of my home.
I want you to love me or I want you long gone.
You say your real name is John?
Hey, thanks John. Go sing songs.
Go rock on.
Roll your crew on down the road to the next sold-out show.
Think you can get up above me?
Well, I want you to know that you’re a figure of fun to everyone beneath the Lone Star neon broken blinking sign.
But they wish they were you, like I wish you were mine.
What a dumb thing to do.
How come I shout “goodbye!” when God knows I just want to make this white lie big enough to climb inside with you?
Another day lost and gone, clipping pages from the news for the senator’s son, while he just strolls through the lobby and glad-hands everyone. Another day tossed and done.
I go home, take off clothes, smoke a bowl, watch a whole TV movie.
I was supposed to be writing the most beautiful poems, and completely revealing divine mysteries up close, but I can’t say that I’m feeling that much at all at 27 years old.
I’m discussed with desire by the guys who conspire at the only decent bar in town, and they drink MGD’s and they wish they had me, like I wish I had fire.
What a sad way to be.
What a girl who got tired.
So I wonder who you got your hooks in tonight.
Was she happy to be hooked, and, on your arm, did she feel alive, her head all light?