Cold Son Lyrics

At the centre

Where they go on weekdays

It takes hours

Just to slake that thirst

Heavy heels

And a daunting post rate

Bad idea for your

Blistered toes

To my wheel well you’re getting close

So say adios

The conjecturers reject the rose

Don’t stay high

High

High

On abuse

Sometimes it feels

Like the world’s stuffed with feathers

Table-bottom gum

Just holding it together

A cold son

I am

Cold son

I am

You can chase it

But it won’t come easy

It’s a reverie

So silver-quick

It gets solid

When you’re old

And hazy

Takes no leverage to make me click

To my wheel well you’re getting close

The tension grows

Defy conjecture and accept the rose

Don’t stay high

High

High

On abuse

Who was it that said

‘The world is my oyster’?

I feel like a nympho

Stuck in a cloister

Cold son

I am

Cold son

I am

Face plant

You stumble ahead

Victim of your rival pretensions

Know me

Face plant

You stumble ahead

Rival to the bitter pretensions

Know me

Cold son

I am

Cold son

I am