| Girl, meat me in the disco
|
| We can trim our branches
|
| And dangle from the gallows of cellophane/cello frame
|
| Bricks
|
| Laughing in the smug walk
|
| Looking at the traumatized ballistic
|
| Prima-donna in the corner with a stick
|
| Girl, be careful what you wish for
|
| You don’t know what you give
|
| Until it’s gone
|
| And when it’s gone
|
| You’ll never get it back
|
| Again, just because you’re faithful
|
| Doesn’t make it square or righteous
|
| It’s just a matter of perception
|
| Lalalala
|
| The man tugging at me
|
| With the degenerated facial presence
|
| And shoulders wide
|
| Looking for a ride
|
| Is sliding through the park with a cynical laughter
|
| Automobiles and scattered heels
|
| … Miss Daisy
|
| Everybody looks so
|
| Everybody looks so good
|
| Good morning, casanova
|
| In the backseat of a choken convertible
|
| A rolling dice between two thighs
|
| A naked couple ride with the caramel
|
| The war, the war
|
| It has begun
|
| I feel like dancing, jumping, have some fun
|
| We are the over night collectibles
|
| And now it’s time to feed the
|
| We can’t let go
|
| She’s a star
|
| She plays piano
|
| Bad to the bone
|
| She’s alone
|
| And got no places to go
|
| If that’s me
|
| In five years
|
| I’ll blow my head off
|
| But I’m not like her at all
|
| I still got places to go
|
| Girl, meat me in the disco
|
| We can trim our branches
|
| And dangle from the branches of cello-frame
|
| Bricks
|
| Laughing in the smug walk
|
| And looking at the traumatized, ballistic
|
| Prima-Donna in the corner with a stick (stick)
|
| She’s in the corner with a stick (oh, yeah)
|
| She’s in the corner with a stick (*giggle*)
|
| She’s in the corner with a stick
|
| She’s in the corner with a stick
|
| (*giggle*) |