A one of a kind fixture
and a telephone wiring in the sockets,
they intertwine to make my
sedatives go slower and stop me.

Caesarean birth bred me a stillborn,
yuletide stories to tell my future.
While he’s a laying on the rug,
Daddy hands me the Styrofoam.

And I eat it piece by piece.
Selective bastard boy-
No complaints from the seats,
and clanking and clanking and clanking….

Oh, for the record the lights need repair,
and my hair needs to grow, and I need to cry.
And there’s things to be done.
And there’s ladies to divide the pay and kids to be in the wars for me.

Mi lápiz es romo, apuñalamiento es difícil.
Es difícil.
El de enfermedad y es sórdido.

Sonar del niño agonizante.

Lyrics submitted by zebraplop

Nostalgia Told Me You Were Gone song meanings
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