I don't belong, singing these anthems. This fever
is cunning. Deadly, it's running straight for the
exit, detoured through my veins. Telling me to
"Get the Fuck OUt". I don't recall how
it all started. I tripped on a bass line. Now my
guitar screams loud about living, loud about love,
loud about loathing myself. When all is said and
done. When all we've said, we've done. I've howled
at the moon. Been sick by the sunrise. I've taken
abuse from those who have no right conducting the
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/Bh64violins playing my song. Thee things that I choose
require opinion. Demand satisfaction and
commercial reaction. I'll just keep on moving
losing every thread. Tied to the place I call
home. We are the brand new beatniks. We are the
down and outers. We are the bleeding hearts,
bleeding syncopated, broken rythm. Our speed is
often break neck. Just need to slow it down some.
Tired of being sleepless. Tired of being broken.