| Dishes in the sink, roaches in the walls
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| Ain’t around my son, so I bought the boy a ball
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| That’ll do, that’ll do, that’ll do
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| Set shit off like Jimmy Lennon too
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| Set shit off like «Hey, I’m leaving you.»
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| We don’t have no portions to divvie up in two
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| Amoeba like, tiger pelt to a wooden knife
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| An addendum to the lonely rhythm of private life
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| Dinner for one, dinner in the winterdom
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| Used to smoke Phillies by Beck’s and have fun
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| Ybor city had me feeling like a crumb
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| Feeling depressed like spilling juice on your prom dress
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| I was happy once when I went to a real brunch
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| It was special, like «People, don’t speak.»
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| Mommy did dope only during the first 30 weeks
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| Happy family, happy baskets of candy
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| Family trips to Sea World, stolen mother’s sea pearls
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| I ain’t seen them, ain’t been doing nothing but reading
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| Walking tall, staying focused, and dreaming
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| Cleaning up weekends
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| It was my choice
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| And the life that I create
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| I’m nothing to you
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| I’m nothing to you
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| And I may look just like a baby
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| And I may feel just like a dog
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| I may not look just like I’m fading
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| I may not look just like I’m fading
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| And I am hardly hanging on
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| Dishes in the sink, roaches in the halls
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| Ain’t around my son, so I bought the boy a ball
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| Cleaning up, weekends
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| Sleeping off, reasons
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| Take pictures, send postcards, scrolls
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| Little smiley faces after massage ropes
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| Saw my boy, said hello, gave him a new toy
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| Ask him what his favorite color, mommy made him a brother
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| That’s beautiful
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| Family trips to Tampa, tanktops, jean shorts, blue bandana
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| Black shoes, white socks, no Humana
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| Draw a portrait, this is real life, stand up
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| Laugh, this is hilarious, next month I’ll meet a life-changing Aquarius
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| Thank God, I thought about, used to drink wine and feel like king
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| I’m open, the most open in the ocean
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| Tiny jellyfish enjoying solitude, floating
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| I like it, I like it like I like your high kick
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| I didn’t see it coming, the crib needs new plumbing
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| I’ll do it, chip at it, you know I work nights
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| Six months later, we get pissed in some bloody street fights
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| Life’s ill, fatigued and broken into a total turnaround
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| Fast as the speed of sound, or as fast as when the fair moved out of town
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| Yay, what a great ass day
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| Overcast, chilly, mist, and really gray
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| Bought a «A», shoulda bought a «I» |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dishes In the Sink, artist - Sisyphus. Album song Sisyphus, in the genre Альтернатива