Fred Thomas - Bed Bugs lyrics

Let's stop and talk on a slow street Your guy is cross-eyed and muttering Looks at me like "now who the f** is he?" And I tell you man I wish that I knew Trash scavenged mattress and a stuffed bear Bed Bugs crawl through your lovers hair You got that thousand yard stare I get itchy just from talking to you Drained hopes sinking with the Argos son Floating out on the freshman year beer run It's so hard to have fun but there used to be a way to get through All your amazed days fade But all of the damn dogs, they think that they've got it made And no matter what you say, You know that you are going to do it anyway, do it anyway, do it anyway Knuckle tattoo says "I hate to live On another dickhead who a**ures me that I'm just too sensitive" You can't tell everybody to f** off forever Then be mortified when they finally do You had a textbook breakthrough on a shaky plane Seated next to kid hyperventilating She's so embarra**ed by her dad's use of slang And nobody ever gets to feel cool And these days I'm only saying something if I'm swaying That's the only time it doesn't feel like I'm explaining So if you see me and I seem to entertaining I'm not singing I'm just talking to you But you don't want a funeral unless everybody comes And you don't want a kiss unless you're adequately numb And you don't want to speak not even to say goodbye And you don't want to share how you're in shadows all the time And you don't want to think about the people that you knew They're a tug on your sleeve, they're an embarra**ment to you Just some bones in the sun, just a decomposing rind Just a sitcom that aired before you even were alive Your friends are full-length mirrors that you pull out of the garbage Or orange juice soaked cotton balls to convince you, you aren't starving You need somebody to f**, someone to call when you get down And some people to make wonder why they even stick around And now you don't want to drink, you say it feels the same as water And you don't actually even like me, I just subconsciously remind you of your father And his flannel shirts that smelled liked cigarettes and rain And a catalogue of things you wished never had to change But it's never been quite like it was when you were a kid Puffy eyes, play fight, bug bites, jiff peanut bu*ter, cinnamon toast crunch Strawberry allergy, bee stings All of the people are asleep But tomorrow the punks and the cops will both have to eat And whatever those people say You know that you have got to do it anyway, do it anyway, do it anyway