|
How many times must I have to paint |
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Over these mountains drawn of grass |
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When all you do is being wrapped in wit |
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Deeper than any wounded scab |
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Burn it, burn it down, |
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Beneath the soil |
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Where you stole your crazy sleazy animal dust |
|
Burn it, burn it down, |
|
Beneath the soil |
|
Where you stole your crazy sleazy animal dust |
|
I find it hard |
|
To articulate |
|
I find it hard to pronounce |
|
I find it hard to articulate |
|
I find it hard to pronounce these words |
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How many times must I have to say |
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You're losing me over a style |
|
Following dust throughout endless roads |
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That lead under the open skies |
|
Burn it, burn it down, |
|
Beneath the soil |
|
Where you stole your crazy sleazy animal dust (x2) |
|
I find it hard |
|
To articulate |
|
I find it hard to pronounce |
|
I find it hard to articulate |
|
I find it hard to pronounce these words |
|
Burn it, burn it, |
|
To the ground |
|
Watch it melt away (x4) |
|
I find it hard |
|
To articulate |
|
I find it hard to pronounce |
|
I find it hard to articulate |
|
I find it hard to pronounce these words |
