gold rush whores pelted with rain you get what’s coming, understand? this short story feels too long hair of the dog tell me a lie
spoken like a true close call i know i shouldn’t have been there at all that’s no system i’m concerned your eyes gone cold your lips feel the burn tell me you’re lonely
your couch is how the moon slips through mark me with your thumbprint under skies that crash in sun-kissed rubber bullets sing past
teacup bravery is all the chivalry i ask for as rubber bullets sing past
your hand is glam gone softer haul me down through burn and crash under skies that crash in thunder rubber bullets sing past