| Eyes open, I want to masturbate in a locked…
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| Eyes open, I want to masturbate in a locked…
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| Your lover is at yoga, breaking a sweat
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| While you shoot mid-morning coffee nerved on the front steps
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| Pouring its slave labor likelihood all over
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| Your wounded lung. |
| everyone’s allowed to have these thoughts
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| After all, this is the song where you sing i am a drug addict for 8 bars
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| It is a blessing to have rifle eyes in times of war
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| One is lucky to go deaf over the course of one’s life
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| I love these legs
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| In the speaking up and claiming of my projector
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| It’s a dancing fool moment happy taking the blame
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| For all my hammer marks and… dropped gavels… and eyes
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| Open, i want to masturbate in a locked planetarium
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| I am a drug addict, i am a drug addict, i am a drug addict…
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| Iamadrugaddictiamadrugaddictiamadrugaddict…
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| I am a drug addict…
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| Sometimes you can still see dead-end signs in my eyes
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| I’m still burning the bones of my strong arm over my mother
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| Never unclenching to the spoiled little stone in my skull to a sober
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| I feel as though I thaw all day, everyday
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| Someone from second grade well into his last set of teeth
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| Waiting for help…
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| Will you, will you stay if i promise you eggs and glue
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| And guns and birds and bread?
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| Will you stay if i promise you eggs and things and yes and yes and yes…
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| I met a beggar who says he was famous
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| And nowadays he only tells two jokes
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| One about eagles, weasels, and jet engines
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| The other a terrible one about a left-handed match
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| Says the only thing you need on the skids is a hat
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| Says he’d also pissed away a million dollars in his day
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| Nowadays when i want to feel like a millionaire
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| I just walk into a bank…
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| So i stood in the bank, and started thinking…
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| While exact clocks spilled over into numbers of people
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| Comfortably naming all 900 bones in their yesterday rhine
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| Laughing in the face of so many black bags
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| Luggage a natural melody to the fear poet
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| I can admire the of an arrow all day
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| But by no means am i one with smoking dust
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| In a Roxborough graveyard or painting wasp nests shut
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| For my slumlord in Cincinnati
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| I’d rather run with piano open in my head
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| Laughing with your hat in the wind…
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| Not at you…
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| I’m not laughing at you but with you
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| Hat in the wind |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hat In The Wind , by - Themselves. Song from the album The No Music, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп