Tuesday, 5 May 2009


I'm sipping cold and slow while careful to keep my legs closed
The sun's not solid gold, but no one knows
The doors are deadlocked but the whores aren't wedlocked
A wish list of marital bliss in an answerless Los Angeles
Back home they think I'm queer, but no one's yet to notice here
The doors are deadlocked but the whores aren't wedlocked
Free love in this city
A sick cult of synchronicity
Oh shut up, it's the best habit I've held in years

Come on, truly it was always dusted fly
dead in the corner of some window
I couldn't win 'cause sunburnt skin is in
If there was a pin to pull, I'd pull the pin
Oh fuck yea I know where it began
I was buried up to my glands in sand
Hot boys with toys on their arms don't mean no harm
They merely mean to impress, to
show you what they undress

The flexed pricks have spoken
The thighs wide open
The team members are swollen
Delicious d'ebutants hearts are stolen
What's in the future for us?
A public speech on a public bus
The DNA will have it's say


Love Karen O in that

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