Gravitated towards a taste For foreign films and modern plays But that machine could only Bend to squares five to six times Before your fingers came unwired... Weights down so that you could move forwards Pinch to snub that restless nerve And knock the wind from one last urge With two fingers a rock glass, Time passed and that was that Quite a slip (a loosened grasp) ... what a way to cut lengthwise...

I saw the scene unfold on a rainy Sunday Creases indicating fold that kept four walls from caving in I took a little more of what i take for granted And filled my plate for fear that gears would turn And wheels would roll away Something's got to break you down Entered the scene (i'm told) on i think it was Monday You drove straight through and mined that quarry For all it could bleed 'til dry I took a little more 'til i got taken for granted 'cause beautiful boys gave chase and when they arch your backbone it's such a dreadful sight i'll react when faces find you with jealous fits that gag and bind you 'cause nothing hurts like nothing at all when imagination takes full control

i think i'm drunk enough to drive you home now i'll keep my mouth kept shut from under lock and key that's rusted firm, no lie 'cause all these conversations wind on and on... drinking champagne from a paper cup is never quite the same and every sip's moving through my eyes and up into my brain at half past two; about time to leave 'cause the dj's playing rhythm and blues a sad-sorry state, stutter step to those slammin' grooves as i'm waiting around for you...

it's a backwards attraction to your forward eyes but you're so far-sighted that you can't place trust in what or who you recognize we sped the plymouth cross the banks of the mississippi river mary timony was smaller then a super ball... chitter-chatter all these secrets started giving me the shivers plain and simply broken down near olympia i think your bruise was understanded, 'cause you can't feel this anymore it's getting bluer and you can't keep faking that you can't feel this anymore

i think you caught me on the downslide, downturn i was busy writing with a pen and paper thin dream and all your plastic people with plastic hearts and smiles they had the worst intentions all along after all... the royal castle holds the mellow drama kings and queens and all their dazzling children; they're so regal (clean) with pristine fingertips they wash behind their ears and let their hair down 'til the audiences leave i'm definitely shaking the silence isn't breaking backwashed and stranded memories of something i thought could be

i can't expel the truth it's much more than i thought i could do and with time my worth with stain and split your heart from my name... so drive away your mouth from my ears and waste a day so i can think clearly and what's left to wait for here as my hands sleep spent this last year choking the bottle's neck that pulled you from my bed

And I'm standing up in my practice room. I'm all alone. Speakers almost blown and my new Gibson, and oh what the hell. Things are not so different in my vocal master. You're the face that launched one thousand shits. Quakes and Trojans and a thousand shits. The shits lining the shores of Asia minor. Lining all the shores of Asia minor. You can tell that I'm not a minor in Asia no more. I'm standing up. His is the face that launched a thousand shits. I'm standing up. This is the face that launched one thousand shits. This is the face that shot. You'll never have replaced. Splitting up his kingdom into 3 separate parts, for his sons and their 3 separate hearts.

and if it was just how you wanted you'd be glued to his bones and his brainstem and changing your image and attitudes won't bring you back into your bedroom amputating as he's waiting he's unresponsive 'cause you're irresponsible little swinger your bottle is thinking too much 'cause you're aiming to please way off target and i'll tell you what you must already know of amputating that too slow

bent at the knee, a last resort backfired and made things worse once on the bus, it was quite possible you'd be the jailhouse queen jury and judge were screaming to hang you spat the sweat from brow he shrugged his shoulders, nothing would work it had to end right now... i can't drive straight counting your fake frowns focusing in; details a must trying to make each one count all on your fingers stopping at ten magistrate's keyed in how the jury and judge were screaming to hang you spat the sweat from brow he shrugged his shoulders; nothing would work it had to end right now... we can't keep your interest now increasing pixels and sound

there things take my time and energy don't stand too close without apologies cutthroat; cut out candid glimpses and wind me up; i'm ready can't escape this line of best fit i remember being inside something more than you...