| Dim Sum and Noodles make me feel alright.
|
| Dim Sum and Noodles make me feel alright.
|
| Dim Sum and Noodles make me feel alright, —
|
| — but not tonight, 'cause they fight, and I’m like…
|
| Woah woah woah woah woah
|
| Cotching in the Skoda. |
| Gun-grey leather back seat.
|
| And eyes fix straight on the night.
|
| Mind’s kind of jittery. |
| Skittles like Jam jars shaked up —
|
| — tinging and ringing like a champ.
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| It’s all a bit blank. |
| Don’t like phone call’s, man.
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| It’s a? |
| trash ting, laying in my bed room.
|
| Maybe I should ask Frank Philly or Fred, and —
|
| Backspace the words you’ve said.
|
| The lights ain’t river, it’s constantly red, —
|
| — and «patience is a parasite», my daddy once said.
|
| But I’m an old school fella in a new aged town.
|
| City on speed. |
| I gotta get down.
|
| But upping up the tempo leads to upping up mistakes, —
|
| — and I’ve made a load of late. |
| -- Great
|
| Trate book rate.
|
| A fresh don’t care; |
| it’s some sunrise weather. |