David Bazan - Cold beer and cigarettes
Give me that Blues. Siffig, voller Weltschmerz und Drogen; inklusive Anklage an Gott. Ich mag ihn.
A white ghost, making his way up the west coast
Trying to focus his high hopes on a vagina or two
He’s taking his chances
Meanwhile, back in his living room
Bright smiles are watching his toddler run speed trials
Over a grandmother’s rug
And nature advancesUp the interstate
He’s been awake
And pretty drunk for three whole days
No one wants to stop
Until they get to where they’re going
I’ll get to where I’m going pretty soonSo he takes another drink
‘Cause watching the scenery bleed
Into each similar scene
Isn’t as sweet as it had been in his dreamsIt’s faster to buy cigarettes and some cold beer
If you don’t rattle the cashier
By asking her back to your room
She’s calling securityOur car’s on fire in the parking lot
And nobody wants it to rain
But God isn’t listening
So all of the windshields glisten
The water and oil mix
Causing the fire to spread
To five or six innocent automobiles
Waiting in their nearby spots
What a cruel God we’ve got
Right on, right on, right on
Right on, right on
Right on, right on, right on
Right on, right on
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