Conscious mind repeating the worn out tracks of the weekend
Ink on paper, spilling mentals
Another fucked up week's ended, drinking Stellas
Liqour, brew, gin'n'juice, try'na fit in shoes
Someone left behind while I was sippin' biera
Plånboken fylls för att tömmas, like "Skicka mera!"
Värdelöst som vanligt
nästan glad att jag kommit förbi årets sista fredag..
Everyday paper chase, never ending, I'm searching diagrams
For a shifty little shortcut to retirement
Every cut corner's like "What if I just lost traction and
went down the hillside" And I'm imagining
Pictures of weeping friends, a shattered family
So I retract thoughts and put my pass on the tragedy..
2008 - new year, same shit, no millenium shift
Som "Vaddå börja om från början, börja om från nytt?"
'Cause no matter how hard you fight, venomous stings
like genital itch and I'm out of thoughts
and out like that, so holla!
norman bates behemot
bubba fett alfred bello
arthur's detour azazello
|