Letra de But the nuns are watching
I Set My Friends on Fire
Look!
He drank straight from the faucet!
Holy shit he’s fuckin’ lost it!
We only enjoy fine sparklin’ water…
Fed somethin’ adhesive to your daughter…
(Repeat)
Call me old fashioned
But I think trains kick ass!
I don’t need hot wheels to get to class…
What the hell is wrong with him?
His hair’s so long it needs a trim
I heard he packs a lot in those bloomers
It’s probably true like all the other rumors
You think you’re modern
But that taste won’t
It just won’t last…
And everythin’ you own
Will be (Will be)…
The fuckin’ past
Will be…
The fuckin’ past… Cynicism save me
Turn me around
And march me back up the sidewalk
To my door
Take me back inside and throw my trench coat
On the floor
Lead me back into my bedroom
And make me put my clothes back on
Grab the Mag-Light
Get the grappling hook
Let’s find the bottom of this cave
And close the book!
The salt on my lips is a enzyme
That metabolizes reality,
To fuel
These
Dirty delusions!
You’re leading me to
These conclusions!
Like organs
Exploding
In my torso!
Like a series of city blocks
Givin’ into
A nuclear blast!
“And now my pressure relief valve is activated
Maybe I should stop holding my breath
I’ll prove it
Come sit next to me
Tell me what you do at work
You half hearted intimacy
We’ll be
Like a gay actors
Over and out
Having
The kind of sex
Sacrificial, Virgins, Fantasize about…
But If I knew
Your name
It would have to be for charity!
Just try me1
Test me!
Release me!
Cynicism reassure me that
If we only had
Less clothing
And better light
It would all just be
An embarrassing’
Misunderstanding
The sudden silences
Aren’t the crash
Where
Lips should be!
If this were a contract
I wouldn’t sign
He drank straight from the faucet!
Holy shit he’s fuckin’ lost it!
We only enjoy fine sparklin’ water…
Fed somethin’ adhesive to your daughter…
(Repeat)
Call me old fashioned
But I think trains kick ass!
I don’t need hot wheels to get to class…
His hair’s so long it needs a trim
I heard he packs a lot in those bloomers
It’s probably true like all the other rumors
You think you’re modern
But that taste won’t
It just won’t last…
And everythin’ you own
Will be (Will be)…
The fuckin’ past
Will be…
The fuckin’ past… Cynicism save me
Turn me around
And march me back up the sidewalk
To my door
Take me back inside and throw my trench coat
On the floor
Lead me back into my bedroom
And make me put my clothes back on
Grab the Mag-Light
Get the grappling hook
Let’s find the bottom of this cave
And close the book!
The salt on my lips is a enzyme
That metabolizes reality,
To fuel
These
Dirty delusions!
These conclusions!
Like organs
Exploding
In my torso!
Like a series of city blocks
Givin’ into
A nuclear blast!
“And now my pressure relief valve is activated
Maybe I should stop holding my breath
I’ll prove it
Come sit next to me
Tell me what you do at work
You half hearted intimacy
We’ll be
Like a gay actors
Over and out
Having
The kind of sex
But If I knew
Your name
It would have to be for charity!
Just try me1
Test me!
Release me!
Cynicism reassure me that
If we only had
Less clothing
And better light
It would all just be
An embarrassing’
Misunderstanding
The sudden silences
Aren’t the crash
Where
Lips should be!
If this were a contract
I wouldn’t sign
Letra de But the nuns are watching de I Set My Friends on Fire
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