or
Bad Books

Styrofoam cup of mud in my good hand,
Disembodied voice of God in the trash can
Eyes in the ashes, feeling for the future
Sleeping through the steak-out, researching the rumor.

My old motor and mattress of memories,
First you were embarrassed, but how could you not be,
Tangled in teenage mum at the movies,
Your voice ran out out of words,
It was awkward and homey.

Gospel in your belly, they aim a little lower,
Back into the bleachers, Spoke as it's owner.
Sindicate a sermon you sang from the raptors,
Anchors in you pockets, holding down the laughter.

Tearing up your mind, your lust and your ego,
Slingshot a martyr to speed your libido,
Perish grows to jelly, blissful and wasted,
Your fish knew I consult them pictures of you naked?

You're complicating your worst mixed messes,
You built them burned to bridge.
And scattered all your crumbs at the cliff,
She wants me, she'll swim for it.

Brother, can you spare your arms or your arrows?
Thunder clap's arising, I think that I should
Go home.

To the days when, back barns, it melts me.
1996 and your waiting there to tell me,
"I didn't die, you dreamt it, you dreamt it,
I'm as alive as your backward intentions.
Sorry that I tricked you, you had to focus
Put yourself together, clear out, you got this."

But for all that effort,
The slow burned struggle,
I forgot where you live.

She swept away the clues from the cliff, your lost now.(x4)
Remembering.

She swept away the clues from the cliff, your lost now.
Remembering.

Written by KEVIN PATRICK DEVINE
Published by RAZOR & TIE DIRECT LLC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.