I'm drawin' blood from a tired f*cker and he don't wanna sit still in this
Wide open southern motel I've settled in
And I'm clawin' mud from under my fingernails for a faded fortune
A jaded whore says I still owe her some bills
But what's a man to do when his only wealth is beatin' the Hell out of himself
Wake up in the mornin', saggin' to the ground, ass touchin' down
Pokin' holes in the cheapest mattress I'd found
The marked man's shoulder slowly smolders, and the smell is drivin' the doves to their owners
But they never had owners at all
Such is the being of the white wind in a white wing
Free to go, but strappin' itself in
And neither crook nor crow would forge the seeds to sew a happy bone in their soul
So ends the tale of misfortune and misanthropy
Don't ya miss it my man
Said don't ya feel like a man
Said don't ya see it's the end?
Pokin' Holes Video (MV)
The Bed Bugs - Pokin' Holes Lyrics
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I'm drawin' blood from a tired f*cker and he don't wanna sit still in this
Wide open southern motel I've settled in
And I'm clawin' mud from under my fingernails for a faded fortune
A jaded whore says I still owe her some bills
But what's a man to do when his only wealth is beatin' the Hell out of himself
Wake up in the mornin', saggin' to the ground, ass touchin' down
Pokin' holes in the cheapest mattress I'd found
The marked man's shoulder slowly smolders, and the smell is drivin' the doves to their owners
But they never had owners at all
Such is the being of the white wind in a white wing
Free to go, but strappin' itself in
And neither crook nor crow would forge the seeds to sew a happy bone in their soul
So ends the tale of misfortune and misanthropy
Don't ya miss it my man
Said don't ya feel like a man
Said don't ya see it's the end?
Wide open southern motel I've settled in
And I'm clawin' mud from under my fingernails for a faded fortune
A jaded whore says I still owe her some bills
But what's a man to do when his only wealth is beatin' the Hell out of himself
Wake up in the mornin', saggin' to the ground, ass touchin' down
Pokin' holes in the cheapest mattress I'd found
The marked man's shoulder slowly smolders, and the smell is drivin' the doves to their owners
But they never had owners at all
Such is the being of the white wind in a white wing
Free to go, but strappin' itself in
And neither crook nor crow would forge the seeds to sew a happy bone in their soul
So ends the tale of misfortune and misanthropy
Don't ya miss it my man
Said don't ya feel like a man
Said don't ya see it's the end?
Writer: Alec Ramsey
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid