Trophy Scars: Don't Fuss Over Spiders Thrown
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Trophy Scars: Don't Fuss Over Spiders Thrown
I read it in a book, my biased dirty looks.
"Unhand me, you crook."
I saw it in her face;
She made a big mistake.
That word's not hers to take. No.
This is the joke, so listen up close:
Those bodies below are people you know.
Dig them all up,
Connect all the dots,
And see what you got...
Not a whole lot... A lot, a lot, a lot
All that he knows is all that she is:
A quiet small girl with some guilt and the passion of saying
"Oh well, It's personal. So stop listening in!."
I can argue all night in the cold
Over TV static and snow or the hum on the radio.
Listen to john 'cause here comes a solo.
He plays all the right chords.
We argue over the same two words: Spiders thrown.
Its so unofficial but, its all over the f**king news.
You gotta sit down.
We gotta talk about this one pal, we gotta talk about this one.
This one thinks I'm a dreamer, oh yeah I'm a dreamer.
I'm taking the next train to Florida where it's warmer.
I won't argue any longer over spiders.
They say it's easy when you're the one who's leaving.
So I guess we're f**king even, right?
Sit the f**k down and shut up!
I need to say a couple things to myself.
"What am I doing?" "What's this song?"
I can't remember my teeth and my skin.
"Why the grin?" I'm still knee deep in sin.
Oh, I'm so existential, pretentious with pencils,
A market a staple, awkward and able,
A cowboy who reads much to much noise,
And I can't keep from drinking when I'm out with the boys
Over "Spiders thrown."
"Unhand me, you crook."
I saw it in her face;
She made a big mistake.
That word's not hers to take. No.
This is the joke, so listen up close:
Those bodies below are people you know.
Dig them all up,
Connect all the dots,
And see what you got...
Not a whole lot... A lot, a lot, a lot
All that he knows is all that she is:
A quiet small girl with some guilt and the passion of saying
"Oh well, It's personal. So stop listening in!."
I can argue all night in the cold
Over TV static and snow or the hum on the radio.
Listen to john 'cause here comes a solo.
He plays all the right chords.
We argue over the same two words: Spiders thrown.
Its so unofficial but, its all over the f**king news.
You gotta sit down.
We gotta talk about this one pal, we gotta talk about this one.
This one thinks I'm a dreamer, oh yeah I'm a dreamer.
I'm taking the next train to Florida where it's warmer.
I won't argue any longer over spiders.
They say it's easy when you're the one who's leaving.
So I guess we're f**king even, right?
Sit the f**k down and shut up!
I need to say a couple things to myself.
"What am I doing?" "What's this song?"
I can't remember my teeth and my skin.
"Why the grin?" I'm still knee deep in sin.
Oh, I'm so existential, pretentious with pencils,
A market a staple, awkward and able,
A cowboy who reads much to much noise,
And I can't keep from drinking when I'm out with the boys
Over "Spiders thrown."
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Trophy Scars: Don't Fuss Over Spiders Thrown
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Trophy Scars: Don't Fuss Over Spiders Thrown
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