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When Hollywood runs out of |
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IndiansWhen the bar stars melt and their golden hair turns into glass |
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When Hollywood runs out of |
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IndiansWhen the bubble bursts and the first are come for by the last |
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There's something in the way you move |
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Makes me catch a cold |
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There's something in your "too cool for school" |
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When you slide up and down my pole |
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There's something in the way you look |
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That only casts a shadow |
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When Hollywood runs out of |
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IndiansOnly the |
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Indians will know |
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A kick in the head, pass it around |
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Begging for a bed, pass it around |
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Pass it around |
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And I'd say what you'd say |
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It makes me feel nothing |
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There's a car waiting to take me to something |
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At the end of my rope there's |
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A new world, it's snowing |
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The globe it starts shaking |
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Is it me not worth knowing? |
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The white coats are melting |
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The snow down our mountains |
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To process the rivers for hallways, and fountains |
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And I'd say what you'd say |
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But it makes me feel nothing |
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Til there's a man waiting to take me to something |
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That I'm for |
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HellIt looks red in all it's pictures |
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My sisters sing laments |
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While their skin blisters(take your time, take your time, take your time) |
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Halleluiahs |
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Offered down on the floor |
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Nobody goes above decks |
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No, not no more |
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They say the sun is still shining |
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That you can feel it in your core |
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But I ain't seen nobody move |
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That weren't going for the door |
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And I'd say what you'd say |
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Champions of nothing |
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But there's a car waiting to take me to something |
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At the end of my rope |
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There's a new world, it's glowing |
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The globe it starts shaking |
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Was it you not worth knowing? |
|
The white coats are melting |
|
The snow down our mountains |
|
To process the rivers for hallways, and fountains |
|
And I'd say what you'd say |
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But it makes me feel nothing |
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Til there's a man waiting to take me something |
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That I'm for... |
