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All the bottles and the ashes blanket the ground. |
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The sluts stagger out with their skirts hiked up, right on time now. |
|
I think it's time to go home. |
|
Do you wanna go home? (whoa!) |
|
The disco ball is swinging low. |
|
I found my lover on the radio. |
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She sang me songs from a long time ago. |
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Blackout! |
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Shout it out loud. |
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The Devil's keeping time on the brake pad now. |
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It's the music on the radio that's taking me home. |
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When the crowd get's to spinning |
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I can barely hold on. |
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The liquid trash flows through my veins and |
|
I scream the wrong song. |
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I think I gotta go home. |
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Do you wanna go home? (whoa!) |
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So, I'll stomp to the beat, yeah |
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I'll stomp to the beat of the... |
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Oh. Oh, it's the garbage on the radio. |
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I should have known. |
|
I should have fucking known. |
|
Blackout! |
|
Shout it out loud. |
|
The Devil's keeping time on the gas pedal now. |
|
It's the garbage on the radio that's taking home. |
|
These so called hit lists are nothing more that fat fuck lullabies. |
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Man, I've had better hits on my tongue in the park on |
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Friday nights. |
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If this is victory, |
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I'd rather listen to defeat tonight. |
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Am I right? |
