• Sea Lion
  • Broken Wings
  • Escape Artist
  • Dance Monkey
  • Crack Pipes
  • The Buzz Kill
  • Gunz Yo
  • Crumble
  • Inherited Scars
  • Product Placement
  • Climb Trees
  • Bridle
  • Agony in Her Body
  • Voice Mail Bomb Threat
  • Personal Journalist
  • Jah Didn't Kill Johnny
  • Slow Down Gandhi
  • Lie Detector Test
  • Ground Control
  • Got Up This Morning
  • The Best Of Times
  • Different
  • Makeshift Patriot
  • Sun Vs. Moon
  • Runaways
  • Smoke And Mirrors
  • Civil Obedience
  • Message Sent
  • Specialist
  • Hopeless
  • Good Fashion
  • Waterline
  • Eviction Notice
  • Underground For Dummies
  • Black Sweatshirt
  • Clickety Clack
  • Cup of Tea
  • Black Out On White Night
  • Keep Moving
  • Little Houdini
  • Hell Of A Year
  • My Name Is Strange
  • High Step
  • Midgets and Giants
  • Call Me Francois
  • Growing Pains
  • Hoofprints In The Sand
  • Sun Vs Moon
  • Going Back To Rehab
  • Slow Man

Day one I played with her blood
Day two left her face bruised and we called it making love
Day three her blood played with me
Dirty talk caught me off guard
She had the nerve to ask if I thought she was crazy

Baby, you don't know where my mind has been
Fell off the bike more than twice
But it's time to ride again
This time I learned from my past falls
Old wounds may re-open soon
Burn 'em in alcohol
I heard that last call
It was a close one
Road runners
Know which direction to go when snow comes
We're coasting
With extra traction on radial tires
Having sex in the back wrapped in radio wires
Self abusive, Stuck in a bad place
A Head full of bruises and scratched face
I bled profusely
Stirred in my juices
So you could taste me
Put my neck in a noose
And swung to safety
Found a land mine planted in the sole of my foot
I can't find santcum in the holes I've been put
I keep digging
Covered in earth
I undress
They run tests
I leave the dirt to the experts
White coats and shiny objects
I jump their lifeboat science project
We got a floater
Guinea pig overboard
Stone sober hillbilly kid with open sores
And ripped vocal chords
Tearing them out
It's a mute manifesto that you'll probably never hear about
Weirded out about my wearabouts
...

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