I don’t need no wheels, I don’t need no gasoline‘Cause the wind that is blowing is blowing like a smoke machineIf I said to you that I was looking for a place to get to‘Cause my neck is broken and my pants ain’t getting no bigger I got a stolen wife and a rhinestone life
I’ve been drifting along with the same stale shoesLoose ends tying the noose in the back of my mindIf you thought that you were making your wayTo where the puzzles and pagans layI’ll put it together: it’s a strange invitation When I wake up someone will sweep up my lazy bonesAnd we will rise in
Keep on talking like a novacane hurricaneLow static on the poor man’s short-waveStampede’s got to dismantleCode-red: what’s your handle Mission incredible undercover convoyFull-tilt chromosome cowboyX-ray search and destroySmoke stack black top novacane boy Got so low your mom won’t drumGetting late with the suicide beatTest-tube, still-born and dazedChump scum plays in the razor’s hazeGot the
It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash songLike a frying pan when the fire’s goneDriving my pig while the bear’s taking pictures in the grassIn my radio smashedAnd I like pianos in the evening sunDragging my heals ’til my day is doneSaturday night in the Captain’s clothesTin horns blowing with my jury ‘phros
High 5, high 5High 5, high 5 "C’mon on, 8, everybody, c’mon, 7, c’mon, now, 6, 5Aw, yeah, I like that shit" When I rock it’s like a high 5Want a slap in the face I love the tasteAll my days with my wheelchair waysWatch me die in my suicide highI don’t mean it ’cause
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