Fatso Jetson Idle Hands
I know you're reaching when you're stealing those lines
Dramatic fragments of the darkest of times
Have and had it, you're hoping for rain
There's no inspiration while you circle the drain
Sunny driver, the sun in your eyes
Kills our grinding, ignoring the signs
Burns and branded, we're stuck in the sand
At least I can hold you with these idle hands
You say you're loyal to the royal palms
Brilliant brother, sucker you can do no wrong
Shape shifting in the painted hills
One brunt hurt her with the heart cheap thrills
