SnotFlickerman

I run my mouth and it's not great
But you broke my heart on my birthday
You said, "Don’t cry, you're making this harder"
Well goddamn you're just like your father

But if I beg you, would you stay with me?
And if I stay up, would you lay with me?
In the morning you can leave again
And I promise I won’t lose my shit
Call all my friends, call off the wedding
Leave me at the altar, give me a good ending
'Cause you're a good man, you do everything right
And when I get psychotic you don't put up a fight
But you need a vacation, a break from my love
'Cause I'm always wasted and I need too much
With my splintering syntax, hysterical grammar
Parenthetical sadness, it doesn't really matter
I'm not a runaway bride, wasn’t born for deceiving
I love you too much, I’m no good at leaving

Who's gonna hold you now?
I won’t wait around to find out
Who's gonna get you high?
Let you take the stars from their eyes
Baby please, it's not gonna be me
You should get a ride home
From someone who loves you

Did you show up just to hurt me?
Just to waste my time, or just to look at me?
Did you think that I would beg you?
Did you wanna make me cry?
Oh, what a tragedy

'Cause life’s so sweet and my friends adore me
Honestly, baby, you bore me now
I'm having fun again
One more time just so you remember
No one's gonna do the things I did to you
And when you come back

I'm gonna make you crawl
It's dangerous to get what you want
Who's gonna calm you down?
You always got so nervous in a crowd
Baby, why do you look so tired?
You should get a ride home
From someone who loves you

Is this a worthy goodbye?
You drained the sun from my sky
To light up the halo above you
Well, God help the next girl that loves you

I run my mouth and it's not great
But you broke my heart on my birthday
You said, "Don’t cry, you're making this harder"
Well goddamn you're just like your father

But if I beg you, would you stay with me?
And if I stay up, would you lay with me?
In the morning you can leave again
And I promise I won’t lose my shit
Call all my friends, call off the wedding
Leave me at the altar, give me a good ending
'Cause you're a good man, you do everything right
And when I get psychotic you don't put up a fight
But you need a vacation, a break from my love
'Cause I'm always wasted and I need too much
With my splintering syntax, hysterical grammar
Parenthetical sadness, it doesn't really matter
I'm not a runaway bride, wasn’t born for deceiving
I love you too much, I’m no good at leaving

Who's gonna hold you now?
I won’t wait around to find out
Who's gonna get you high?
Let you take the stars from their eyes
Baby please, it's not gonna be me
You should get a ride home
From someone who loves you

Did you show up just to hurt me?
Just to waste my time, or just to look at me?
Did you think that I would beg you?
Did you wanna make me cry?
Oh, what a tragedy

'Cause life’s so sweet and my friends adore me
Honestly, baby, you bore me now
I'm having fun again
One more time just so you remember
No one's gonna do the things I did to you
And when you come back

I'm gonna make you crawl
It's dangerous to get what you want
Who's gonna calm you down?
You always got so nervous in a crowd
Baby, why do you look so tired?
You should get a ride home
From someone who loves you

Is this a worthy goodbye?
You drained the sun from my sky
To light up the halo above you
Well, God help the next girl that loves you

Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with,
but there was bad blood in him someway
he got into the magic bullets and
that leads straight to Devil's work
just like marywanna leads to heroin
You think you can take them bullets and leave 'em, do you?
Just save a few for your bad days.
well...

Well, now we all have those bad days when we can't hit for shit.

The more of them magics you use,
the more bad days you have without them
So it comes down to finally
all your days being bad without the bullets
It's magics or nothing.
Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,
kid, you're hooked, heavy as lead

And that's where old George found himself.
Out there at the crossroads.
molding the Devil's bullets.
Now a man figures it's his bullets,
so it'll hit what he wants to hit.
But it don't always work out that way

You see, some bullets is special for a single aim.
A certain stag, or a certain person
And no matter where you aim, that's where the bullet will end up.
And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser's wand,
and point where the bullet wants to go

(George Schmidt was moving in a series of convulsive spasms
like someone in an epileptic fit
with his face distorted, and his eyes wild, like a lassoed horse
bracing his legs but something kept pulling him on.
And now he is picking up the skulls and making the circle.)

I guess old George didn't rightly know what he was getting himself into,
the fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads.

Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with,
but there was bad blood in him someway
he got into the magic bullets and
that leads straight to Devil's work
just like marywanna leads to heroin
You think you can take them bullets and leave 'em, do you?
Just save a few for your bad days.
well...

Well, now we all have those bad days when we can't hit for shit.

The more of them magics you use,
the more bad days you have without them
So it comes down to finally
all your days being bad without the bullets
It's magics or nothing.
Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,
kid, you're hooked, heavy as lead

And that's where old George found himself.
Out there at the crossroads.
molding the Devil's bullets.
Now a man figures it's his bullets,
so it'll hit what he wants to hit.
But it don't always work out that way

You see, some bullets is special for a single aim.
A certain stag, or a certain person
And no matter where you aim, that's where the bullet will end up.
And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser's wand,
and point where the bullet wants to go

(George Schmidt was moving in a series of convulsive spasms
like someone in an epileptic fit
with his face distorted, and his eyes wild, like a lassoed horse
bracing his legs but something kept pulling him on.
And now he is picking up the skulls and making the circle.)

I guess old George didn't rightly know what he was getting himself into,
the fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads.

I've waited through the wars of winter
I've watched the cherry blossoms bloom
I cannot wait here any longer
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I know what lies beneath Manhattan
I know who's buried in Grant's Tomb
I wonder if they'll wait a while to clear away my crocodile
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

Your Uncle Henry lived in Moscow
Your Aunt Ludmilla lived therе too
Irina grew up in Wisconsin
I'm leaving at the rising of thе moon
The final moments in a doorway (The final moments in a doorway)
The sacred light of afternoon (The sacred light of afternoon)
Something starts to shake the leaves, you tug upon your T-shirt sleeves
And shiver 'til the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

I took the family balalaika
Those strings would never stay in tune I hung it up on the piano
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I had a job once in Penn Station (I had a job once in Penn Station)
Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon (Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon)
Every time my shift began, I'd see that quiet businessman
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
And I hope you know your brain's not bulletproof

I've waited through the wars of winter
I've watched the cherry blossoms bloom
I cannot wait here any longer
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I know what lies beneath Manhattan
I know who's buried in Grant's Tomb
I wonder if they'll wait a while to clear away my crocodile
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

Your Uncle Henry lived in Moscow
Your Aunt Ludmilla lived therе too
Irina grew up in Wisconsin
I'm leaving at the rising of thе moon
The final moments in a doorway (The final moments in a doorway)
The sacred light of afternoon (The sacred light of afternoon)
Something starts to shake the leaves, you tug upon your T-shirt sleeves
And shiver 'til the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

I took the family balalaika
Those strings would never stay in tune I hung it up on the piano
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
I had a job once in Penn Station (I had a job once in Penn Station)
Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon (Down at a tie shop called Tiecoon)
Every time my shift began, I'd see that quiet businessman
I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
It's just the Russian word for truth
Your consciousness is not my problem
And I hope you know your brain's not bulletproof

Removed from politics@lemmy.world for not being an article, which is fair, that's a rule there. It does not seem to be a rule here, I hope this is okay to post.