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He won't ride in cars anymore |
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It reminds him of blow jobs that he's a queer |
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And his hair stuck to the roof over the wheel |
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Like a pigeon on a tire goes around |
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And circles over circles and he's a queer |
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And his hair on the roof |
|
Like a pigeon goes around |
|
Says he's a man and his eyes |
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And his hair and his eyes |
|
Say he's a man |
|
He won't ride anymore |
|
He won't ride anymore |
|
He won't ride anymore |
|
Home is a rage feels like a cage |
|
Home is what you read |
|
How you breathe, |
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Home is how you live |
|
I feel boxed in |
|
I feel boxed in |
|
I feel boxed in |
|
Think I'll be all right |
|
Home is where the heart lies |
|
The heart lies, the heart lies |
|
Welcome home, welcome home |
|
Welcome home, welcome home |
|
Welcome home |
|
It's under the strangle of winter |
|
I only love pieces of things that |
|
I hateLike this box, this piece of roof |
|
I can't grasp, can't see true |
|
A piece of past |
|
Days like today |
|
Like a decade ago |
|
Painful to remember like today |
|
I've been here another year, another day |
|
Ocean waving flies and a child |
|
Girl you complain |
|
To kiss the rotten broken knee |
|
You may be dreaming |
|
You may be bleeding |
|
You may be in this box |
|
A kitchen is a place where you prepare |
|
And clean up |
|
Clean upClean up |
|
Clean up |
