|
I've got a pistol in a paper bag |
|
That says you're not sorry |
|
That says you're not sorry |
|
That says you're not sorry |
|
Who would have thought you said you were |
|
Ready to sacrifice the cure |
|
When there's an art to staying clean |
|
In a place where smoking is the scene |
|
I've got a pistol and a plastic bag |
|
Full of hallucinogenic shwag |
|
We know the guilt will drift away |
|
As soon as we forget about today |
|
I've got a bottle and a gas soaked rag |
|
That says you're into me |
|
That says you're into me |
|
That says you're into me |
|
Who would have thought that it just begun |
|
Ready to sacrifice your lungs |
|
When your stress is the first thing on your list |
|
And looking cool comes |