turn on the stereo or worse an awful fight a judge and nurse in fighter's gloves in someone's blood there's instances where nothing's going on. a radio dispatcher told me plans to reveal a chapter a history tied down in lacquer a man will break when stuck in traffic. longer drives than tv ads short term prison sentences together we can do the time with makeup we can douse our minds in kerosene we'll raise the steeple a hurricane designed for people with minutes left on motorcycles the kicker kicked the shit out of you know who. i just opened up to a crowded room. there's someone in my face at all times like these should place the calls to mysteries and governments i'd knock them down but the gloves don't fit this- on the helicopters dizzy sick with fear named neiman marcus guys in shades of rubber jars heavyweight champion of the world. sinus pains from the morning after children quiet with not much laughter winds exceed the miles high throw in the towel we are fifty thousand shy drop the hat and fall to pieces the motor's running and you've got to see this with minutes left to follow people we spent that time watching tv. i just opened up to a crowded room.
Lyrics submitted by dan.