Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dark Arts, artist - Man Man. Date of issue: 05.05.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Dark Arts |
| Bored to life you shower with a knife |
| You mix Ambien and motorbikes |
| She heaves a sigh in the middle of the night |
| That says come inside her and it kills the vibe |
| Bored to life you huff glue and wine |
| You paint portraits of pretty babies |
| Crying out a short bus eyes for you |
| (wa wa wa wa) |
| You gravitate towards lovers named |
| After days you were weak and hurricanes |
| And hope that they hold you like an avalanche |
| And I hit my head and I had a vision quest |
| I rode on the wings of a giant talking bat |
| Said to trust my sonar |
| 'cause happiness don’t ever last |
| And I can feel it |
| Can you feel it? |
| It’s like a warm |
| Atomic cloud that’s raining down, washing over us |
| I can feel it, can you feel it? |
| It’s like a warm |
| It’s like a swarm |
| Atomic cloud that’s raining down, washing over us |
| There must be something in the air |
| That’s making us all go crazy here |
| Our friends are either breeding, dying |
| Or losing all their marbles trying |
| Told me that you turn to pygmies |
| And the dark arts to ease your suffering |
| It’s why you’re running through the bush with a taser and a tan |
| Don’t blame me for your bouts of sadness |
| Blame the magic that makes the mattress |
| Melt so wonderfully with another’s body in the dark |
| And I hate my head |
| So I bury it in the sand |
| If I razor cut some bangs |
| Will I forget who I am? |
| Staring at the man who’s in the mirror |
| And how the fuck did I live this long this way? |
| (Hello |
| Nice to meet you |
| Certainly |
| Charmed |
| Thank you) |
| Mister dagger, meet mister back, inseparable, together at last |
| These days I feel like a pariah |
| An albatross with my feathers on fire |
| Stop and drop and roll the flames |
| But they don’t slow, they just grow brighter |
| And will you help me search party for my hidden Indians? |
| The parts of me that I scalped to be |
| A well-adjusted man |
| And home surgery all the fondest memories |
| That keep me bound like blackened ice |
| To motorcycle crash |
| And I pour myself a cup of mummy brown |
| And I’ll carve a coffin out of tramp art that I’ve found |
| Cut me down if you love me and let me sway if you don’t |
| Stare at the man who’s in the mirror |
| And how the fuck did I live this long? |
| And I can feel it! |
| Can you feel it? |
| I can feel it! |
| Can you feel it? |
| I can feel it! |
| Can you feel it? |
| I can feel it! |
| Can you feel it? |
| I can feel it! |
| Can you feel it? |
| I can feel it! |
| Ahhh! |