Lyrics Late Night Show - Vincent Minor, Headache

Late Night Show

I sow and I reap
I’m my worst enemy
I’m losing memory
All I need is a little hit of E. C. T.
I knock myself out
I always do that
My luck is never learned
And it pulls the wisdom out of my teeth
He’s indoctrinated with a pregnant point of view
He’s constipated on a treadmill
On the late night, late night show
On the late night, late night show
I’ll use my camera
So I can’t distort
Or warp what’s really there
'Cause I’ll see witches in cupboards
Catching killers
I’ll drink some Chianti
And read some Freudy
Double-dutch with Morrissey
And tap a secret in morse code…
… To Brian in the desert who’s doing L. S. D.
Sugar glider on your shoulder drew maps on me On my body body, on my body body
Marching bands dance migraine heads to sleep
And a gentle touch of a masculine man
R.I.P.
R.I.P.
R.I.P.
Rest In Peace
So get your masts out
Sail to the jungle of your 9 to 5
I got 5 to 9 stuck on the 405
His thoughts run in circles on conveyer belts
He’s balanced on a thin string when he sees a mouse
When my mouth opens… Comes out
On the late night, late night show…