Drunk again, six p.m. Beautiful, ugly weekend Stayin' out and sleeping in Love it when my girlfriend Calls me a cock sucking fagot Writing rock ?n? roll
All the flowers fade And all the star?s pale As this bitter beauty Grabs you by the tail How long will you hesitate? Half way up the trail Yes, it's
We're the fugitives of American portions Caught on the sleeves, yesterday's conquered From the fresh cut grass out on the interstate Where the wheels
How can we leave at a time like this? You know the ocean where the sun comes up Is different than the ocean Where the sun goes down These are the days
So this is the day of the dead St. Jude and the Lady of Guadalupe The apples and oranges And silver coins for ghosts to gamble with Marigolds and candles
Lamps and kerosene, up in the north country The air is cool and the lakes are seething The sun sets, I cannot describe this feeling Followed you down
Your smoking gun was lying in my arms When you told me to keep it hid I thought it'd best if we just stay in But I must confess I did not confess We
You betray your heart When all your charm has faded You say it's not your fault That your privilege makes you hated And still you talk too loud Tryin
Lamps of kerosene Up in the north country Air is cool, and the lakes are seething The sun sets, I can not describe this feeling I followed you down I
You took hold of my affections With your Bible and your sword Your celebrity connections I was not used to keeping score From your fine guilded chalice
Dance, locust, dance. The prophets shrug their shoulders as calamity's child lost her head in the bell of the trumpet's blast. I know you just want to
So this is the day of the dead Of St. Jude and the lady of Guadeloupe Apples and oranges And silver coins for ghosts to gamble with Marigolds and candles
You took your brownie hawkeye and pointed it up at the sky you just let the shutter fly all of your friends still wonder why you were never good with
Lemon gin, corn fields plowed under. Cigarettes, Southern Comfort with your friends behind the bleachers it?s my first dance. He?s gonna beat it in the
Drunk again, 6pm Beautiful, ugly weekend Stayin' out, and sleeping in I love it when my girlfriend calls me a cock sucking faggot Writing rock n' roll
It was in your basement apartment with all of its earth and sea making love on the carpet under the light of the tv outside the sour moon minstrels shook
We're all fugitives of American portions Got only sleeves n yesterday's calling card from fresh cut grass out on the interstate where wheels keep on runnin
Traduzione: Jason Collett. Fuoco.