You're killing me. You're killing me again. It's not my fault. It's not my fault again. . There's a sign, a sign. A sign on the door. You're killing me.
I sneezed corn flakes down to my nose. He's got a chrome-plated baby, so it knows where it goes. I spent a long week waiting for my laundry with Steve.
My space is ready to be taken. . By the sweat up high, with the fucked up eyes with the ugly face. the ugly face, the ugly face, the ugly face, the ugly thighs.
Just 'cause I'm fakin' doesn't mean I'm wrong. 'Cause I bought my price yeah. No I got it at cost and there's the things I know. Wrote them down on your nib.
My radio, it doesn't work. It's been shot up. The wires are burned. Someone yanked it just a little too hard. . My radio, it doesn't work. It's been shot up.
What I was was a pissing Johnson. And what she was was a faded bombshell, maybe, maybe. What I was was a mark inside her hand. What she was was a ten pound block, maybe, maybe.
From now on, I make haste. To carry my skin into the arm. Must of [unverified], never less, never less. Caught might grow in to a mind that eats like a big taste lie.
Maybe she is, maybe she's not. Maybe we's, we's hack cough. Wheeze hack cough. . Debris slide. . Maybe he is, maybe he's not. Maybe I's, I's in the socket.