at the center where they go on weekdays it takes hours just to slake that thirst heavy heels and a daunting pulse rate bad idea for your blistered toes to my wheel, well youre getting close so say adios the conjecturers reject the rose don't stay high high igh igh igh on abuse sometimes it feels like the worlds's stuffed with feathers table-bottom gum just holding it together a cold son, i am a cold son, i am you can chase it but it wont come easy it's a revery so silverquick it gets solid when you're old and hazy takes no leverage to make me click to my wheel, well youre getting close the tension grows defy conjecture and accept the rose don't stay high high igh igh igh on abuse who was it that said the world is my oyster? i feel like a nympho stuck in a cloister! cold son, i am a cold son, i am faceplant stumble ahead victim of your rival pretensions know me faceplant stumble ahead rival to the bitter pretensions know me cold son, i am a cold son, i am