Every little thing that you are always bursting like a tumor in the car telegraphing
Certain sentiments like 'how did it get so far?' finding everyone but you. this is
How we wallow
When we're wild in our sorrow, when tomorrow is a punchline (pinch me) i am
Shaking to d**h
You have me so make me your utility, your pathology. Hold upright. Bite down
You have to learn this is emotional arbitrage--bring it to me. Only the forces of
The markets are free!
Calling out pa**ing flights, you're pa**ing out from one little trial. There will be no
Right angles
In a house that's losing skin: win-win! (so thin). Now go and burn the
Books before they see us out here
This is how we wallow when we're wild in our sorrow and tomorrow is a tumor in
The car
Only the forces of the markets are free