| Smell smoke, perfume, whisky and wine
|
| And I’ll drink down, oh I’m even blind
|
| Before the flesh starts to wrinkle my brain
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| I love the way the ghosts call my name
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| Hit a brick street 'til we pull up too
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| A massive of thoughts have cleared into few
|
| My hand is pulled right straight through the crowd
|
| Haha, well I’ll tell you now
|
| Baby I’ll be on the road
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| Baby, don’t call my phone
|
| Ain’t come home
|
| Ain’t come home
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| I’ll never leave morning, I’m feeling bad
|
| This two piece chain is driving me mad
|
| Pick up my bag went straight for the door
|
| Forgot to get the girl on the floor
|
| Laughing cross the sign to rain
|
| The formal motive filled with a grain
|
| Stoy and George go rough through the car
|
| Ha ha, we love going far
|
| Baby I’ll be on the road
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| Baby, don’t call my phone
|
| Ain’t come home
|
| Ain’t come home
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| I’m gonna be on the road
|
| Honey, I ain’t coming home
|
| Baby, don’t call my phone
|
| Ain’t come home
|
| Ain’t come home |