Directive Greetings From The Interior
Oh I've spent the past few evenings tearing off these
webs,
My hands are crampin' up, I'm not even close to done.
I've got some rust through my core that shows more than
the spark I thought we had in store
I'm down to drown in this red plastic cup in my hand.
All I need is to keep my palms from beading
With all this pressure in my chest it's sure to burst
Cross my arms just like my heart and hope tonight ends
quick
(My backs pressed against the wall like yours to some
bed)
Make my way to the back porch and out of the smoked out
room
I need to breath: here's me behind the scenes
But then how is it that nights like these always end up
with me headfirst into a toilet
or backside into a coffin?
All I need is to keep my palms from beading
With all this pressure in my chest it's sure to burst
Cross my arms just like my heart and hope tonight ends
quick
(My backs pressed against the wall like yours to some
bed)
West coast states we've grown fond of your ways
With every kid out east who think they're great cause
they're fake
Show up alone at a party, spill a coke and Bacardi,
turn the heads of the barbies
Your an exception? I'm sorry, your not.
I might as well put slick gel through my hair
and throw my fists repeatedly through the air, since I
don't care
All I need is to keep my palms from beading
With all this pressure in my chest it's sure to burst
Cross my arms just like my heart and hope tonight ends
quick
(My backs pressed against the wall like yours to some
bed)
I might as well put slick gel through my hair
and throw my fists repeatedly through the air, since I
don't care.
