The snow will be melting soon,
Can't help but wonder what is in store,
The boys all work so hard in the yard,
Tossing 'round lumber and abuse,
But I got these soft hands,
I've been sleeping around trying to match up my shoe,
Born with such thin skin,
I concede to tumble with the leaves.
I saw her late last night...
She is a parasite... for these sore eyes,
I try to make it hide,
It bubbles over if I have a little bit too much rye.
Wishing is for fools,
But I guess I always did rush in for you,
Carpentry tools,
Let's build a bridge to burn on the evening news.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
The snow will be melting soon,
Can't help but wonder what is in store,
The boys all work so hard in the yard,
Tossing 'round lumber and abuse,
But I got these soft hands,
I've been sleeping around trying to match up my shoe,
Born with such thin skin,
I concede to tumble with the leaves.
I saw her late last night...
She is a parasite... for these sore eyes,
I try to make it hide,
It bubbles over if I have a little bit too much rye.
Wishing is for fools,
But I guess I always did rush in for you,
Carpentry tools,
Let's build a bridge to burn on the evening news.
Written by Skylar Bouchard. All Rights Reserved.
Used and recorded by the band "Two Socks"
