Текст песни Beck - Cyanide Breathmint

Definitely this is the wrong place to be There's blood on the futon There's a kid drinking' fire Going' down to the sea They've got people to meet Shaking hands with themselves Looking' out for themselves When they ask you credit You give them a branch When they want to get it You chew on the grass I know, I know 'Cause they told me to tell you There's nothing to tell you There's nothing to sell you

In the afternoon Riding the scapegoat Burning equipment Decomposing Cool of your jets Take off your sweats I got a funny feeling They've got plastic in the afterlife When they want you to cry Leap up into the sky When they suck your mind Like a pigeon you'll fly I know, I know It's the positive people Running from their time Looking for some feeling

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