dye your eyes the color of july
40 stripes an no one bats an eye
empty room with nothing on the walls
a telephone that no one seems to call
heavy doses of what may be
catching on to your sorcery
changin' me
lazy lover layin' in the gra**
hopin' that this loneliness will pa**
thunder fills the old ones with alarm
fingers trace the thinness of the arm
read my lips and tell me what to do
all these songs and i don't have a clue
loving you just never really paid
gonna get back my old job at the arcade