Save the last cigarette
for the ride home.
Brave the storm, hide your keys.
Getting lost, you never know.
And without a source of direction
we lift
And rumble throughout the sky.
Left-handed ambiance,
So typical with the tyrant,
The hierarchy of a mind.
Bass drums so loud I can't breathe,
hold onto what's haunting me.
And this car isn't ready to ride.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:54 PM UTC
Save the last cigarette
for the ride home.
Brave the storm, hide your keys.
Getting lost, you never know.
And without a source of direction
we lift
And rumble throughout the sky.
Left-handed ambiance,
So typical with the tyrant,
The hierarchy of a mind.
Bass drums so loud I can't breathe,
hold onto what's haunting me.
And this car isn't ready to ride.
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