Walking through heat and desert sand. High priest of the Egyptian land. On his way to the land of snow. From his wand all the magic flows. . The wand is glowing in the dark.
Watch the sun burn out and dig itself a grave. In the ocean south of Sydney off the interstate. And I hold out my hand trying not to shake. Watched you jump off of a cliff.
I forgot what month it is again. I'm half awake, I know it's wrong. But I swear to God it's almost Christmas. In a language I don't understand. There's a shaking voice on the PA.
Memories flood back like photographs—all bright and out of focus, all drab with muted colors.. The whole world smells like True Blue—the only brand my grandma smokes—and the faintest hint of Coppertone..
I m looking for the upsides to these panic-attack nights. where I m staying in eating take-out food by TV light. I m trying to play the b-side to this awkward life of mine.
Living out my days in a rock 'n' roll band. Countryside, desert sand. Moonlight, highways that never end. Singing songs about who I am. Held the truth in my hand.
Pretty girl, wreckin' bar,. Ra ra ra ra yeah you are!. Growin' up, I'm twice the man,. Yeah yeah yeah yeah, yeah I am!. . The angels gave F. Scott Fitzgerald,.
Pretty girl, wreckin' bar,. Ra ra ra ra yeah you are!. Growin' up, I'm twice the man,. Yeah yeah yeah yeah, yeah I am!. . The angels gave F. Scott Fitzgerald,.
You've seen the world. What did it look like?. You took a plane. I'll take a push bike. Run with the wolves. Calling all the wolf pack. When did you go and when did you get back?.
If at some point we all succumb. For goodness sake let us be young. Because time gets harder to outrun. And I'm nobody, I'm not done. With a cool cool breeze and dirty knees.
I know I'm fucking moody. And I know I'm quite unkind. I know I'm kind of distant. But you're always on my mind. And you will imply that I am apathetic.
Quicken up. Come on bite the hand that feeds you. It's what I do. But you know somebody needs you. . Oh how does it feel?. Oh how does it feel?. . To want you so bad.
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Shut down the disease. Brush it aside and stand up off your knees. Tip the scales. Spin me some horrible, beautiful tales. . 'Cause now you're weak. And you're tired and lonely.
Well misery loves company. That's why we're thick as thieves. Let's move out to the country. And live just the way we please. We'll make ourselves a little home.