Tekst:
Jules Gary Trading Snakeoil For Wolftickets

It's a custom made afternoon With shrinking hands I can't keep to myself Springtime...Saturday Perfect in an easy way And it's a customary sin For angels

They never tell you truth is subjective They only tell you not to lie They never tell you there's strength in vulnerability They only tell you not to

been thinking The more I know I'm living alone Now they see him out on the waterways Rolling on the foam Only memory for a future Only ocean for a home

Trapped a dragon west of Chinatown for fire-eaters up in Hollywood My little sister took a picture of God and floated away RIDE - downtown Los Angeles

we have in common If I had a nickel for every bridge that you've burned... You're just a single malt swamp clown preparing for splashdown The accidents

Trapped a dragon west of Chinatown for fire-eaters up in Hollywood My little sister took a picture of God and floated away RIDE - downtown Los Angeles

I've taken all my pills But I'm still not sleepy Tried to trick myself into thinking That I'm not awake That it's only a dream Put that cigarette out

All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for their daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere Their tears are

that we have in common If I had a nickel for every bridge that you've burned... You're just a single malt swamp clown preparing for splashdown The accidents