We take sour sips
From life‘s lush lips
We shake shake the hips
In relationships
Stop by this disaster town
You‘ll put your eyes to the sun & say "i know"
You‘re only blinding to keep back what the clouds are hiding
And we might have started singing just a little soon
We‘re throwing the stones in a glass room.
Whoa ah oh it‘s a miserable story
Whoa ah oh far from the genuine becoming
We keep the beat,
With your blistered feet
We bullet the words at the mockingbirds, singing
Slept through the weekend
And dream
Sinking with the melody of the kiss of eternity
Your pulse comes from a pharmacist, saying "how you been"?
We might of said good byes just a little soon
(Somehow this disaster town)
Our beliefs of kissing beats over this room
Whoa ah oh it‘s a miserable story
Whoa ah oh far from the genuine becoming
Whoa ah oh it‘s a miserable story
Whoa ah oh far from the genuine becoming
It was icecream headaches and sweet avalanche
When the pearls in our shells came out to dance
You call me a badtipper of the cradle
But I‘m just tired yawns for fawns on hunters lawns
We‘re the hasbeens of husbands
Sharpening the knives of young wives
...
Whoa ah oh it‘s a miserable story
Whoa ah oh far from the genuine becoming
Whoa ah oh it‘s a miserable story
Whoa ah oh far from the genuine becoming