Lyrics Shoes - ATMOSPHERE

Shoes

Would you prefer if I remove… MY… A-
Nah they… they’re clean…
I mean.
what?
You wanna look at the bottom of… of 'em?
My shoes are clean girl, how about yours?
Here we are sitting on your living room floor
Listening to some records from your collection
Boredom;
in between a coma and an erection
Staring at the skin on your shoulder blades
And you don’t take your eyes off my poker face
I’m wasted, and you’re as sober as Jehovah
Knocking door to door, trying to walk the road
That the Mormons paved
If she was here on your sofa with a beer on a coaster
She’d’ve told 'ya that my game was way overplayed
Make no mistake, I love the way you taste like yogurt and some clover cigarettes
Girl, show me leg!
So I’mma gonna trade these shoes for rollerskates
And I’mma stay happy just as long as there’s a whore to pay
But some of us already spent the rent
So we can’t be content until there isn’t no more today
Those are your shoes
These are my shoes
We’ve got issues
My shoes are muddy girl, how about yours?
Here we are lounging on your bedroom floor
I’m really drunk so I’m looking at your carpet like
«Man, fuck the permit, I know where I’mma park tonight»
It’s closing time, the spins are gonna visit me
They’re rolling thick like they know they taking victory
But not tonight, right, I’mma make some history
Get up in your system and direct it like a symphony
Let me get to be the man of your mystery
Cause them meddling kids don’t understand your sensitivity
Show some sympathy, let me kiss your feet
Let’s talk about a pretty bird and a busy bee
If I live to see fifty, I’mma be a tipsy, dirty old man
Still following my kid beliefs
I know it isn’t really your responsibility
So we’ll be straight once I take a hit of Listerine
I can’t find my shoes girl, how about yours?
Here I am naked on your bathroom floor
I got faded, and you fell asleep
And I’m thanking God that this date was hella cheap
Sitting down, trying to keep the liquor down
Light, thoughts, and sounds- everything flickers now
Sick-bound, the whole room twists around
In front of the toilet, assume the position to drown
Here it comes!
Whiskey out bounces all over the floor
Now I’m sitting in the bitch’s mound
I’m just a clown, and I’m sorry I found it funny
When you tripped over my shoes and hit the ground
Didn’t know you would rip your gown
Didn’t think you would shout and get so loud, get so wound
Yeah I’m drunk, but I’m more than a little proud
I’m leaving, fuck the shoes, you keep them, I’m getting out
Perfection