Lyrics to See You In Hell
A little room on 7th street is getting cold
And secrets sing like mescaline
They don't get old
I saw a pattern on a blanket just the other day
It looked just like the pillow you threw away
You were like a zombie
When you told me what you did that day
And I drove out to the meadowlands
To throw our baby away
What time and snow couldn't bury
Years of forgotten guilt
That little body's calling, rising up
>From under a Jersey landfill
I just woke up the other night
And now I know what to do
I just woke up the other night girl
And now I know what to do
I guess I'll see you in hell
A creature's waitin' for a battle in the ancient swamp
Your pissing on the pyramids
Ain't gonna move things along
So pack your scars and your makeup
And give your money to the poor
Cos you've been riding a twenty gauged ticket
Into reality's door
The TV's gone and you've been half an hour paid
And your punkrock band still sucks anyway
I was talking to Jesus through a hole in the floor
He said our time is up, we can't stay anymore
No more
A little room on 7th street is getting cold
And secrets sing like mescaline
They don't get old
I saw a pattern on a blanket just the other day
It looked just like the pillow you threw away
And secrets sing like mescaline
They don't get old
I saw a pattern on a blanket just the other day
It looked just like the pillow you threw away
You were like a zombie
When you told me what you did that day
And I drove out to the meadowlands
To throw our baby away
What time and snow couldn't bury
Years of forgotten guilt
That little body's calling, rising up
>From under a Jersey landfill
I just woke up the other night
And now I know what to do
I just woke up the other night girl
And now I know what to do
I guess I'll see you in hell
A creature's waitin' for a battle in the ancient swamp
Your pissing on the pyramids
Ain't gonna move things along
So pack your scars and your makeup
And give your money to the poor
Cos you've been riding a twenty gauged ticket
Into reality's door
The TV's gone and you've been half an hour paid
And your punkrock band still sucks anyway
I was talking to Jesus through a hole in the floor
He said our time is up, we can't stay anymore
No more
A little room on 7th street is getting cold
And secrets sing like mescaline
They don't get old
I saw a pattern on a blanket just the other day
It looked just like the pillow you threw away
Songwriters: WYNDORF, DAVID
Publisher: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Powered by LyricFind
Publisher: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Powered by LyricFind