we are the brand new beatniks. we are the down and outers.
we are the bleeding hearts, beating syncopated, broken rhythm.
our speed is often break neck. we need to slow it down.
tired of being sleepless. tired of being broken.
sweet blasphemy my giving tree
it hasn't rained in years
i bring to you this sacrificial offering of virgin ears
leave it to me i remain free from all the comforts of home
and where that is i'm pleased as piss to say
i'll never really know
Whenever death may surprise us, let it be welcome if our battle cry has reached even one receptive ear and another hand reaches out to take up our arms.
Nobody's gonna miss me, no tears will fall, no ones gonna weap, when i hit that road. my boots are broken my brain is sore, fer keepin' up with thier little world, i got a heavy load. gonna leave 'em all just like before, i'm big city bound, your always 17 in your hometown
sweet blasphemy my giving tree
it hasn't rained in years
i bring to you this sacrificial offering of virgin ears
leave it to me i remain free from all the comforts of home
and where that is i'm pleased as piss to say
i'll never really know
