Tekster:
Lemuria Punk The First Collection

I'm living in a hole and I want to go deeper I never find gold but other things much sweeter Sweeter than the frosting on the cake Sweeter than beespit

colors like the ones in the sky On the fourth of July You can keep the closet door cracked Look outside, and dodge accusing eyes And be yourself for the first

I haven't seen you cry yet I'm betting a million i won't see it happen I wonder how you hide it We're miles away from each other The telephone's not

It's the silence that keeps me quiet But i think that if we talk then we might kiss You always look so shy, and i always lack in confidence I won't have

Let's fog up some more windows Clutter up in the back of your rusty car I'm a little nervous, I haven't done this in quite awhile There's a lot of inches

Sophomore so different that you're just the same Sophomore address your parents by their first name Sophomore such an ugly caricature Sophomore keep

My eyes augment the pleasure of our colliding skin Sliding through you Plotting your own death on that denim couch that I found hideous to help the public

I'm in the other car Riding impatiently in the back seat You're in the turtle-top caravan Somewhere in this traffic jam I know i hurt your feelings And

We're trying to balance each other On a hammock in the middle of summer There's medication in your fanny pack Because you're a hypochondriac Historical