1. |
Blue Bottle
05:02
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I can smell the ivy
Coming up the stairs and the stone
Still going backwards
I just came so that I could go home
It’s all a comfort
Cause it’s broken & set up by the phone
The stars by satellites
So you won’t ever feel all alone
On our way to the same
On our way to the same
And I can’t even explain
It’s all created in pain
On my way to the same
Sweet fucking Martha
Now I think my brain becomes quite a mess
I got so many blues
I think I saw Picasso confess
Too old for cigarettes
And I’ve become too young for that test
Too young to hang it up
And I’ve become too old for success
On our way to the same
On our way to the same
And I can’t even explain
It’s all created in pain
On our way to the same
Oh mama
Your blue bottle perfume
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2. |
No Future
11:53
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Brighton Street Ghosts Portland, Oregon
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