last hurrah
February 6, 2011 7:06 PM
bouncy, hyperbolic night-out song, wherein I muse on the merits of Jack Daniels as it pertains to dental hygiene. (not really)
wordses:
we all made up our minds: we're not coming back. we'll prolly be dead before this time tomorrow. this is our last hurrah.
trains will take us to town where there's street to roll down and the rumbling growl of the traffic surrounds us. we're reborn in the allies. we'll be different people and when the street lights shine down, no, we won't cast no shadows.
and tomorrow don't exist. just a dirty urban myth. and nobody wants to live for forever.
I was born in the bumpy backseat of a car on the first day of april under ominous stars and grew up playing with fire under the power lines. I still hit every note. I kill every line
Got a rose in my teeth, and hot blood in my cheeks. I'm gonna get all lit up like a Christmas tree. Got a girl on each arm and a drink and each hand and a light for each wick, fuse or cigarette.
because tomorrow don't exist
I'm a fish on a mission: find a hook, find a net, and Pat plays the night like a chemistry set, and Mike's got a voice like a sweet bayonet when he sings.
wordses:
we all made up our minds: we're not coming back. we'll prolly be dead before this time tomorrow. this is our last hurrah.
trains will take us to town where there's street to roll down and the rumbling growl of the traffic surrounds us. we're reborn in the allies. we'll be different people and when the street lights shine down, no, we won't cast no shadows.
and tomorrow don't exist. just a dirty urban myth. and nobody wants to live for forever.
I was born in the bumpy backseat of a car on the first day of april under ominous stars and grew up playing with fire under the power lines. I still hit every note. I kill every line
Got a rose in my teeth, and hot blood in my cheeks. I'm gonna get all lit up like a Christmas tree. Got a girl on each arm and a drink and each hand and a light for each wick, fuse or cigarette.
because tomorrow don't exist
I'm a fish on a mission: find a hook, find a net, and Pat plays the night like a chemistry set, and Mike's got a voice like a sweet bayonet when he sings.
posted by es_de_bah (2 comments total)
thanks. I wasn't sure if I was going to keep it.
posted by es_de_bah at 2:58 PM on February 15, 2011
posted by es_de_bah at 2:58 PM on February 15, 2011
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posted by Corduroy at 2:50 PM on February 8, 2011