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