|
I guess we met a couple a bonafide angels |
|
But they all seemed kinda fat and fatigued |
|
But now we're trying to match their mouths to the screams |
|
Match their heads to their dreams |
|
Everybody's searching out the softest seat |
|
All dolled up for the funeral feast |
|
Everyone's stabbing at the biggest piece |
|
Clever kids kissing on a bleak retreat |
|
Now I'm not really sure we were lovers |
|
Or if it was just some kind of car crash |
|
And now we're trying to find a |
|
DNA matchTo match their heads to their hats |
|
Everybody's reaching for the sharpest knife |
|
Legs wide open on the opening night |
|
Everybody's bathing in the laser lights |
|
Clever kids screwing with some new device |
|
Sunday morning, sidewalks flattered |
|
Feverish in stylish tatters |
|
Damn, this used to seem like grammar |
|
I remember when it mattered |
|
Can't get over what's transpired |
|
Left home virgins, came back vampires |
|
Built it out like back scratched choirs |
|
Really dead or really tired |
|
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets |
|
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets |
|
Everybody wants to suck on something sweet |
|
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets |
|
Everybody's coming on their navy sheets |
