Holed up in the underground with nothing but the soundtrack of our
shouting neighbors tossing favors, screaming in the name of love that's
bleeding, that's gone baaad. Paint is peeling, baby's
squealing, Rover's leaving sweet surprises in the places that we never
clean, it's sad. And the phone, it's always ringing, when we're eating,
when we're sleeping. Oh, but what the hell? The central heating leaks.
Man the lifeboats, ring the bell. It's spring time time. They cleared the
shelf. Shit's falling down the chute. We're sitting here, we're sniping
scavengers that swarm around the loot. The seven forty kamikaze kitties
swooping past our window. Look at that caveman go go go.(x6)
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Photos
Artist: Greenwood
Artist: Henry Fiat's Open Sore
Artist: Vision