zephyr
The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The lonesome organ grinder cries
Whaddya know, he takes the drink. Maybe you're rubbing off on him after all, or maybe you'll see it spill out of his torn stomach and drizzle like amber blood to the floor. Wouldn't that be something of a riot?
No. No it wouldn't. The fuck is wrong with you, Zeph?
Well isn't that a loaded question you don't know how to answer? So is the one Sam asks, about whether you're okay. Furrowing your brow and reaching for the bottle back, you kick your feet onto the table and lean over to look at your friend-slash-house-guest-slash-who-the-fuck-even-knows. "I'm good. Great. Don' got a big hole in my belly- Red, why d'ya have a hole in yer belly? Shouldn' ya be, I dunno, more freaked out?"
No. No it wouldn't. The fuck is wrong with you, Zeph?
Well isn't that a loaded question you don't know how to answer? So is the one Sam asks, about whether you're okay. Furrowing your brow and reaching for the bottle back, you kick your feet onto the table and lean over to look at your friend-slash-house-guest-slash-who-the-fuck-even-knows. "I'm good. Great. Don' got a big hole in my belly- Red, why d'ya have a hole in yer belly? Shouldn' ya be, I dunno, more freaked out?"
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
