Cymbals Eat Guitars

You're taking two Klonopin So you can quit flipping And face our friends You dated the sainted dead He ain't nothing but a prayer card Tacked up with my record jackets We're riding through Jackson pines Towards Six Flags to wait in lines And have our

Pennants stiffen on the strip Wind is whipping through the tinsel Fixed to the dealership And you're looking mighty ghostly Just like Bowie on Soul Train Wrapped in your sable Let's throw some brake light in the night Oh it looks so nice to me So wha