The newspaper ride is hanging like a thread. You're looking for your sailor boy. The music uncertainly, disconcertingly. You're looking for your sailor boy.
Ungrateful little mother fuck. Boredom tuck. Beat you up with bedrooms of ice. I see you got another one. Almost done. Bet you think that you wished twice.
Texico Bitches are you in love again. Texico Bitches I think you found a friend. Texico Bitches the air you breathe is real. Texico Bitches why do you like to steal.
Some boys I know. They speak with broken mouths. I have to sit in side their stomachs. To find out what they're really about. . But not like the days.
When I'm right I'm always wrong beneath the wise. Rolling through the way. . (Further my luck tries to be the same ). . When I'm wrong I'm almost right to breathe the miles.
There was a way with the promises. And in a little while another way. Has it moved highways. . Thought I knew. But I don't. . Out here we're made all of us, always.
All the dirty fingers picking up finds. Bruised with a motherless childish mind. To be kind in the line of design. Without a prober subject. . Got all apologies, signed up to steal.
Art house director,. Art house director,. We've lost magic flavor (?) 'till tomorrow night.. Art house director,. Art house director,. Make the waters part into an empty heart..