keep it in, spit it out.
more elegant than the rocks wrapped around your neck
and its surely a tip, you've emptied your last clip,
into a crowd of fairly well-dressed gentlemen.

watchin' you pass, through a shot glass
lifted to my lips with my index out
Just like a gentleman, Just like a prom-king,
But you gotta get up to get down!

Flatline fisted, clenched brass knuckles, raised to make contact.
(we gotta, we gotta, we gotta get It back)
Black eyed imprints, stitched and stapled, hammers raised cocked back.
(we gotta, we gotta, we gotta get It back)

watchin' you pass, through a shot glass
lifted to my lips with my index out
Just like a gentleman, Just like a prom-king,
But you gotta get up to get down!

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!


Lyrics submitted by saeadar

Cat Went Down in a Blaze Of Glory. "in siberian husky's mouth" song meanings
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