I'm through
With the scuzzy vinegar-fog drip
Half-here fever dream ditties
Wonky theories
Blippy, blotty
Strong-blotter-fear
Watered-down, and
Weary
Like a worn out nag
With a busted knee, staring down the light
No
Come on crisp
The fresh fruit
Fridge-cold
Dracula fangs to the pale seering tart mmmmmmmm
The steam laundered collar
The valley's fold
Angled air tight
Creased and Cutting
Like a blood diamond
Come on Crisp
The center-barrel
Compact swing
Crack of the bat
Short dead grass
Splitting void and vista gaps
Ay, ball's-a-runnin'-today-boy
Or
Deep swig on the warm chest, full bottle
Taught and full-throttled
A drain pipe to my belly magic
The land where crack-bands play the hard-stop
On the "and"
Fountains of snare tripp-pip, peddling, up, up, up, pow-wow kamikaze frenzie
Strike the crash
Like a blood whip, to the nag before the Light
Crisp, Crisp
The bleeding eye
The oracle swine
The buzzsaw-wave sine
Just notes notes brilliant notes
Sounding high 'n low til Rorshauk gold infinite
LET ME FE IT, beat it, be it... OH, THE COMMUNION!
Yeah and if all through, then where to?
By which men to stand,
And which rat bastards to cattle-brand
On which hill to die?
Where all is silica crisp and fine as siesta sand
Where Bullseye Buddhas sit and smile
Regas-Mcdonald - Bullseyebuddhas Lyrics
Regas-Mcdonald - Bullseyebuddhas Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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I'm through
With the scuzzy vinegar-fog drip
Half-here fever dream ditties
Wonky theories
Blippy, blotty
Strong-blotter-fear
Watered-down, and
Weary
Like a worn out nag
With a busted knee, staring down the light
No
Come on crisp
The fresh fruit
Fridge-cold
Dracula fangs to the pale seering tart mmmmmmmm
The steam laundered collar
The valley's fold
Angled air tight
Creased and Cutting
Like a blood diamond
Come on Crisp
The center-barrel
Compact swing
Crack of the bat
Short dead grass
Splitting void and vista gaps
Ay, ball's-a-runnin'-today-boy
Or
Deep swig on the warm chest, full bottle
Taught and full-throttled
A drain pipe to my belly magic
The land where crack-bands play the hard-stop
On the "and"
Fountains of snare tripp-pip, peddling, up, up, up, pow-wow kamikaze frenzie
Strike the crash
Like a blood whip, to the nag before the Light
Crisp, Crisp
The bleeding eye
The oracle swine
The buzzsaw-wave sine
Just notes notes brilliant notes
Sounding high 'n low til Rorshauk gold infinite
LET ME FE IT, beat it, be it... OH, THE COMMUNION!
Yeah and if all through, then where to?
By which men to stand,
And which rat bastards to cattle-brand
On which hill to die?
Where all is silica crisp and fine as siesta sand
Where Bullseye Buddhas sit and smile
With the scuzzy vinegar-fog drip
Half-here fever dream ditties
Wonky theories
Blippy, blotty
Strong-blotter-fear
Watered-down, and
Weary
Like a worn out nag
With a busted knee, staring down the light
No
Come on crisp
The fresh fruit
Fridge-cold
Dracula fangs to the pale seering tart mmmmmmmm
The steam laundered collar
The valley's fold
Angled air tight
Creased and Cutting
Like a blood diamond
Come on Crisp
The center-barrel
Compact swing
Crack of the bat
Short dead grass
Splitting void and vista gaps
Ay, ball's-a-runnin'-today-boy
Or
Deep swig on the warm chest, full bottle
Taught and full-throttled
A drain pipe to my belly magic
The land where crack-bands play the hard-stop
On the "and"
Fountains of snare tripp-pip, peddling, up, up, up, pow-wow kamikaze frenzie
Strike the crash
Like a blood whip, to the nag before the Light
Crisp, Crisp
The bleeding eye
The oracle swine
The buzzsaw-wave sine
Just notes notes brilliant notes
Sounding high 'n low til Rorshauk gold infinite
LET ME FE IT, beat it, be it... OH, THE COMMUNION!
Yeah and if all through, then where to?
By which men to stand,
And which rat bastards to cattle-brand
On which hill to die?
Where all is silica crisp and fine as siesta sand
Where Bullseye Buddhas sit and smile
Writer: Matt McDonald, Sam Regas
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid