| Lick your lips, you can taste
|
| All the wasted embraces coming back but wait
|
| There’s a flavour I’d forgotten
|
| There’s a twist
|
| All the sycophantic little shits
|
| Getting dizzy dancing round a pit in a misty cemetery
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Just a rusty time piece not even right two times a day
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Just a rusty time piece not even right two times a day
|
| Have a seat
|
| Kettle’s on
|
| Put your feet up
|
| Take a gun
|
| And I’ll be back to clean you up with a sunny disposition
|
| Take offense at the notion of a truth that you can’t spin into something that
|
| can prove all your predetermined fictions
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Just a rusty time piece not even right two times a day
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Just a rusty time piece not even right two times a day
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Keep your stories short and your silence loud
|
| So they don’t find out
|
| That you don’t have a clue
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Just a rusty time piece not even right two times a day
|
| Don’t mind me, I’ve got nothing to say
|
| Just a rusty time piece not even right two times a day |