lyrics
here, bound, in another kind of “in town"
trying, with ghosts, who never seem to sit down
here, tied, to the minor painting pinned back
on a wall, in a room, that I rented in the cul de sac
(it reads) “Gentlemen’s Room”, suit and tie
on the dotted line, on the dotted line
novocaine, no other way
into the drain, into the drain,
into the drain, into the drain
here, bound, is the one who wouldn’t look down
seventy-six, too late to draw the line now
jotted, jagged, on the sand,
the baseline for the Brother brand,
on the other hand, on the other hand,
on the other hand, on the other hand
(it reads) “Gentlemen’s Room”, suit and tie
on the dotted line, on the dotted line
novocaine, no other way
into the drain, into the drain,
into the drain, into the drain
told ‘em nature doesn’t have a brain,
but that tree can probably feel that pain,
something sort of south of shame
and some things are sort of all the same
and some things are sort of all the same
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