Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pink-Slips , by - Okkervil River. Song from the album The Silver Gymnasium, in the genre ИндиRelease date: 02.09.2013
Record label: ATO
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pink-Slips , by - Okkervil River. Song from the album The Silver Gymnasium, in the genre ИндиPink-Slips |
| Three brides before breakfast |
| These reds, they’re just rectus |
| Right hand on my heart around |
| My left hand snaps your necklace |
| Each day is a little more scary |
| Holding on, get away just barely |
| Moms and dads are rationing their cash |
| For the commissary |
| But I can’t stop without going all the way |
| It’s a habit, someone gave me up |
| This man in the black cage, canary 'the clips |
| Across here, in a pink-slip |
| This wish just to going back here |
| When I know it wasn’t ever, ever happening |
| Show me my best memory, it’s probably super crappy |
| Not here, standing sexless with sluts of both sexes |
| Liars, lumps and drug addicts and drunks |
| I love my friends but I can’t stop without going all the way |
| And I’ve been that way since '83 |
| Oh, midwife with a jet life or a genie with a golden spur |
| A price to pay to pink-slips |
| A country Cadillac in the valley of mirrors |
| With a cold cane, there was nobody here |
| Came for the communism, I kissed it on the lips |
| It came with the singers in hazel pink-slips |
| Is it a kiss or it’s just a dream and I’m drifting? |
| Other fish lay lifted, only happy till the age of 10 |
| It’s still a gift, but we can’t go back, those two too sad and dies |
| It’s just a dream we all have |
| Now I know in the touch lane, a post per post of puckered lips |
| From Academy Awards to pink-slips |
| I show them my Corvette with no ' for years |
| And I’m standing in the rain to get the champagne or beers |
| They said 'who's that shadow sneaking up behind the pier?' |
| He was rushing he was rattled now he’s finally in the clear |
| To be a, a refugee from the rat race with a swag tuxedo in his face |
| A music room that you can’t place, sing the songs on all them tapes |
| He’s the lonely aid on the planet ' now he doesn’t even write, he just rows |
| And they cover up his cot with pink-slips |
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