You can try holding up a payroll with your pants around your ankles,. And a darkened plastic bag over your head,. Tied on real tightly.. Put sugar in the gas tank of your flat-tired getaway car,.
Black teared desolation with my head held in my hands. Broken heart inside my chest, a sadness in my pants. Calmly contemplating kissing this cruel world goodbye.
I never felt bad lending a hand. I think you hoped I wouldn't be in a band. Broken ashtray I can always replace. I kick the door then I spit in your face.