
Date of issue: 08.01.1998
Song language: English
Yes, I Am Talking To You |
Ah! |
let’s 'fess up to |
firecrackerjack snacks |
and a piggy bank built |
and filled to be spilled and broken |
hammy fat fingers |
pinch clammy cold coins |
all the leaves left |
wither a sickly brittle brown |
I’m dying to tell you I’m dying |
I don’t need a reason |
You’ve got yourself such a comfortable trap |
yes I am talking to you |
yes I know this is shameless |
yes I am talking to you |
You’ve got yourself such a comfortable trap |
A matinee of sunshine ribbons |
on a sheetless mattress |
moonlighting as swooning |
moonlight isn’t really from the moon at all |
I am shining smiles and flowery glows |
I am drunk in the breeze |
in the park chasing kites and splashing puddles |
forget meknots in my gut |
that’s what you get |
we nibbled butter cookie rings to the knuckle |
artichoke trophies choked down |
through nevada sandy enzymes |
past ribs choking scorching hearts |
down to an autotrophic stomach |
I called her june, until that late spring |
quite possibly march leap year |
automatic trophies aren’t shit |