With the cops on your lips it's a holy routine you'd stop all your trips you could see what I mean I not to slip 'bout you're under 18 You had it your hands
it up to me It's a known disease Keep it in your fleece Don't worry about customs police, don't I'll tell you just how good it can this lazy summer
you got no relief from the pain in your head it's hollow and greased and it says that you're dead But you make fun and tease and the things that said always stab your back And I've been holding out for love ever since I had a heart