Lyrics Through the Windshield, Holding Hands - Direct Hit!

Through the Windshield, Holding Hands

His girlfriend’s at wit’s end, but they want to try again
He’s tried to ask how do they make some breakup mutual
It’s not like they could write a note then climb on a bike,
Ride into the wide blue and forget what they’ve been through
She’s a bitch and he’s a dick
She makes him sick, he makes her frantic
So faking like they’ll ride into the sunset’s not romantic
So what should they do?
Could they just shut up?
They’ve withstood barbs, lances, sharp glances
Still go to shrinks, not dances
It’s not my fault that I think suicide’s a far cry from useless
Confucius would say «fuck this,"chalk deuces
She thinks their relationship could use an injection of commitment
So how 'bout brains on pavement?
Permanent’s an understatement
So how do I go through this shit?
No, I’m not used to fights, bashes, wounds, gashes
Heartbreak, attacks, rematches
Not to say I’m OK
I’ve shown my share of contained enragement
Adjacent to their tear-filled complacence
I think they should take some time to be apart, reflect, rewind
But that’s no option when they both say that they’re fine
Fuck this, I’m not taking it
This song’s devoted to commitment
We’re sick of all the whining, no one cares, no one can stand it
An automatic rifle in their mouth’s the best prescription
We’re all so glad we’ve come to such an eloquent decision
So thank you, your undue attention’s helped me see who I care for:
Myself more than them
Just try to ignore my portents
Important life lessons aren’t absorbent, like towels or bowels
I’m too drunk to form vowels