Throwing Muses - Vicky's box | Текст песни

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• Throwing Muses
• Vicky's box

He
Won't ride
In cars any more
It reminds him of
Blow jobs
That he's a queer
And his hair
Stuck to the roof,
over the wheel
Like a pigeon on a tyre
Goes around
And circles over circles
And he's a queer
And his hair
On the roof
Like a pigeon
Goes around
Says he's a man
And his eyes
And his hair
And his eyes
Say he's a man
He won't ride any more
He won't ride any more
He won't ride any more
Home is a rage
Feels like a cage
Home is what you read
How you breathe
Home is how you live
I feel boxed in
I feel boxed in
I feel boxed in
Think I'll be all right
Home is where
the heart lies
The heart lies
The hard lies
Welcome home
Welcome home
Welcome home
I only love
pieces of things
that I hate
Like this box, this
piece of room
I can't grasp,
can't see true
A piece of past
Days like today
Like a decade alone
Painful to
remember like
today
I've been here
another year,
another day
Oh so waving flags
and jazz
Girl you complain
To kiss the rotten
broken knee
You may be dreaming
You may be bleeding
You may be in this box
A kitchen is a place
Where you prepare and
And clean up
Clean up
Clean up
Clean up