Из альбома: Ribbed
Sometimes I think of all the places
where I don't wanna go
Then I think of all the things
that I don't wanna do
And when I think of all the people
that I don't wanna meet
I close my eyes and go to sleep
Tully, baby, you're trapped
behind your golden bars
I'm the prince of poverty
hangin' out in bars
Your life's a Mercedes,
a mansion with a pool
My life's on a bus stop
just waiting for some fuel
Your obviousness disgusts me
I see thru your macho lies
I'll fight everything you stand for
There's something in your purse baby,
my head is getting sore
Maybe what we had was just green corn