Testi:
Pretty Girls Make Graves

Too often we sit back and take what life gives us Like holding a bad hand of cards Always folding instead of raising the stakes Never wanna bluff

There's the kid with the golden arm He admits to the forest fire That he started up from a lack of Something better going on Tell your friends it's

walking away again seems like i know the back of your head better than the front but hey you don't see me stopping you not a word out of my mouth this

alright Let's go to my apartment We'll pull the sheets up over our heads Forget all reasons to go outside Beats pulse, they're automatic Locked inside of my apartment Make

being positive all the time Doesn't sit still, doesn't look well Give him something, make it chemical chemical You'll feel better when you cannot feel See the strange girl

Headaches, handshakes, little blue pills to take I got my stereo on ten, I'm screaming Connely's pain And I want to make it louder, louder, louder, louder

(Instrumental)

Been meeting in the back room Been gathering in the parking lot Been talking in the break room Of what were are doing with what we've got Been meeting

man-o-war Spills forth with silks, spices & wines Not limerick's dungeons, 18 months could kill my fervor for sea hunt All herring lassies, gutter girls