歌词
Carl Solomon Blues
Dear and the Headlights
Backwash districts sprung from Ra's bright hips
Reduced to silkscreen hand job new car ego trips
And it's just endless combinations of the same old ****
Sloshing back and forth across some continents
All that talking it ain't got no use
When it's just mal-digestion that's been haunting you
Along with reflux opinions from your ulcer moods
You're just a litany of horrors like the evening news but
Off somewhere in a New York flat
Benzedrine derailed rants of
Immeasurable frenetic praise
That cauterize before they save
All the truth now in how you're lying there
Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet
All the truth now in how you're lying there
In angel-headed elsewhere so markedly meek
Slapped like a has been by syntactic gods****
whom which the help you find your glasses but not your lower jaw
And you don't want to look surprised but you're in constant (Ahh)
Ain't no fig leaf big enough to hide your ****tion flaws now
Teeming pools of alphabetic shame that spit out
Infinitely indolent verbs across your page
Who dig their cloddish claws instantly into some nouns legs
if once your manuscript just limped now it's become quite lame but
Off somewhere in New York flat,
They don't deal with things like that, just
Immeasurable frenetic praise
That cauterizes as it saves
All the truth now in how you're lying there
Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet
All the truth now in how you're lying there
In angel-headed elsewhere so markedly meek
All the truth now in how you're lying there
Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet
All the truth now in how you're lying there
In angel-headed elsewhere for the past six weeks