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We're goin' down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes |
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Gonna hit you on the face gonna punch you in your |
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Glasses. Oh no! |
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Just got a message said "Yeah hell is freezin' over" |
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I Got a phone call from the Lord sayin' "boy go get a |
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Sweater. Right now" |
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So we're drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' coca-coca-cola |
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I can feel it rollin' right on down |
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Right on down my throat |
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As we're headed down the road towards tiny cities |
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Made of ashes |
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Gonna get dressed up in plastic gonna shake hands |
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With the masses. Oh no! |
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Does anybody know a way that a body could get away |
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Does anybody know a way |
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Were goin' down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes |
|
Gonna hit you on the face goin' to punch you in your |
|
Glasses. Oh no! |
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I'm wearin' a t-shirt that says "The world is my ashtray" |
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Our hearts pump dust and our hairs all grey |
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Just got a message sayin' yeah hell has frozen over |
|
Got a phone call from the Lord sayin' "boy go get a |
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Sweater. Right now!" |
|
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away |
|
Does anybody know a way |
|
Were drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' coca-coca-cola cola! |
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I can feel it rollin' right on down oh right on down my throat |
|
And as we're headed down the road towards tiny cities |
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Made of ashes |
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I'm gonna lay down in the baths where they coat you |
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In molasses. Oh no! |
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Does anybody know a way that a body could get away |
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Does anybody know a way |
