August
Saturday 20 June 2009 photo 1/1
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She was lying on the floor and counting stretch
marks
She hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god
So she names the baby elvis
to make up for the royalty he lacked
and from then on it was turpentine and patches
from then on it was cold cambell's from the can
they were just two jerks playing with matches
cause that's all they knew how to play
and it was raining cats and dogs out side of her
window
and she knew they were destined to become
sacred road kill on the way
and she was listening to the sound of heavens
shaking
thinking about puddles,puddles and mistakes
now it's turpentine and patches
now it's cold, cold campbell's from the can
they were just two jerks playing with matches
Cause that's all they knew how to play
Elvis could never carry a tune
she thought about this irony and she stared back at
the moon
she was tracing the years with her fingers on her
skin
saying why don't I begin again
with turpentine and patches
with cold campbell's from the can
after all I'm still a jerk playing with matches
its just that hes not not around to play along
I'm still a asshole playing with candels
blowing out my wishes blowing out my dreams
just sitting and trying to decipher
what's written in braille upon my skin
marks
She hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god
So she names the baby elvis
to make up for the royalty he lacked
and from then on it was turpentine and patches
from then on it was cold cambell's from the can
they were just two jerks playing with matches
cause that's all they knew how to play
and it was raining cats and dogs out side of her
window
and she knew they were destined to become
sacred road kill on the way
and she was listening to the sound of heavens
shaking
thinking about puddles,puddles and mistakes
now it's turpentine and patches
now it's cold, cold campbell's from the can
they were just two jerks playing with matches
Cause that's all they knew how to play
Elvis could never carry a tune
she thought about this irony and she stared back at
the moon
she was tracing the years with her fingers on her
skin
saying why don't I begin again
with turpentine and patches
with cold campbell's from the can
after all I'm still a jerk playing with matches
its just that hes not not around to play along
I'm still a asshole playing with candels
blowing out my wishes blowing out my dreams
just sitting and trying to decipher
what's written in braille upon my skin
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