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Weeds, the apple of my irony |
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in time you open up your wounds |
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so you've got something to cauterize weeds |
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I'm growing lines around my eyes |
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they're called smile lines |
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is that how I got mine? |
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We can grow out of our shoes |
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there's no time so there's no time |
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to lose on this fireball |
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we're riding on we're firing on |
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Weeds, so many bars and resting haunts |
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so many here so many gone |
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If walls could talk they'd say we can grow out of our shoes there's no time |
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so there's no time to lose on this fireball we're riding on |
