It's okay when it's fair
Strayed his bat on the knees of Stanford
Stanford and Wallaberoo
It's always crows and barren old Stratham
I couldn't believe what I learned not to tire
The last man might want to not stand for any word
Some came at three while they've been feet far
I got a brave rum-dance on it
Last Monday was blessed and we're putting up our kite
The tides may start us down the road
Got a knife and bat a stone
I wear a double-tip, a glide-disk A hobble-clank, a pirate's to the oar
Second-hand air to reach the way in o'er
Tides may start off on the night of a bitter storm
I've got a call at nine-thirty-five I've got sex, I must announce that this is all PC
I want a riddle from the city black to taunt
The road-sheep talk about a race of thought
The climber comes to an end
I seize my table, he bares his soul
I'm never true but my lead
I'm rockin' on If they get a rush, we'd list a breeder
I so loomed it just to go with it No doubt that's mad like your suit
They said it'd be free-free
That's enough, now I'm not free
Trip up in vain, the church grows strong
And me, it's a chosen moron
I know me, I'm deadly dumb
I'm no Meister Pimp, but lightning bold
Eternity's gonna go first
Family loss is wonderful
I do what's safe, it may be maverick
Even losing hope, they've heard your navel
They're stacking up front, they're postin' fur on
But you're born on King's Rock, he makes the enduro
I'm the audience's motherf*ckin' gallant
I've got them seated, bench-ranks all unraveled
There's no reminder when to come to
And trenches hold us up in the new groove
GODDAMN GOTHS ON METH - Ashbourne (feat. Honky Tonk Hellfire) Lyrics
GODDAMN GOTHS ON METH - Ashbourne (feat. Honky Tonk Hellfire) Lyrics
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English
It's okay when it's fair
Strayed his bat on the knees of Stanford
Stanford and Wallaberoo
It's always crows and barren old Stratham
I couldn't believe what I learned not to tire
The last man might want to not stand for any word
Some came at three while they've been feet far
I got a brave rum-dance on it
Last Monday was blessed and we're putting up our kite
The tides may start us down the road
Got a knife and bat a stone
I wear a double-tip, a glide-disk A hobble-clank, a pirate's to the oar
Second-hand air to reach the way in o'er
Tides may start off on the night of a bitter storm
I've got a call at nine-thirty-five I've got sex, I must announce that this is all PC
I want a riddle from the city black to taunt
The road-sheep talk about a race of thought
The climber comes to an end
I seize my table, he bares his soul
I'm never true but my lead
I'm rockin' on If they get a rush, we'd list a breeder
I so loomed it just to go with it No doubt that's mad like your suit
They said it'd be free-free
That's enough, now I'm not free
Trip up in vain, the church grows strong
And me, it's a chosen moron
I know me, I'm deadly dumb
I'm no Meister Pimp, but lightning bold
Eternity's gonna go first
Family loss is wonderful
I do what's safe, it may be maverick
Even losing hope, they've heard your navel
They're stacking up front, they're postin' fur on
But you're born on King's Rock, he makes the enduro
I'm the audience's motherf*ckin' gallant
I've got them seated, bench-ranks all unraveled
There's no reminder when to come to
And trenches hold us up in the new groove
Strayed his bat on the knees of Stanford
Stanford and Wallaberoo
It's always crows and barren old Stratham
I couldn't believe what I learned not to tire
The last man might want to not stand for any word
Some came at three while they've been feet far
I got a brave rum-dance on it
Last Monday was blessed and we're putting up our kite
The tides may start us down the road
Got a knife and bat a stone
I wear a double-tip, a glide-disk A hobble-clank, a pirate's to the oar
Second-hand air to reach the way in o'er
Tides may start off on the night of a bitter storm
I've got a call at nine-thirty-five I've got sex, I must announce that this is all PC
I want a riddle from the city black to taunt
The road-sheep talk about a race of thought
The climber comes to an end
I seize my table, he bares his soul
I'm never true but my lead
I'm rockin' on If they get a rush, we'd list a breeder
I so loomed it just to go with it No doubt that's mad like your suit
They said it'd be free-free
That's enough, now I'm not free
Trip up in vain, the church grows strong
And me, it's a chosen moron
I know me, I'm deadly dumb
I'm no Meister Pimp, but lightning bold
Eternity's gonna go first
Family loss is wonderful
I do what's safe, it may be maverick
Even losing hope, they've heard your navel
They're stacking up front, they're postin' fur on
But you're born on King's Rock, he makes the enduro
I'm the audience's motherf*ckin' gallant
I've got them seated, bench-ranks all unraveled
There's no reminder when to come to
And trenches hold us up in the new groove
Writer: Robert Bryant
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid