Moldy Peaches (The)
Lucky Number Nine
Indie boys are neuroticMakes my eyes bleedTight black pants exoticSome loving is what I needHey, I'm starting to feel okayLucky number nine, hooraySepia on the staircaseMirror in the back of my brainMakes things, her pants feel greatI used to like to complainButHey, I'm starting to feel okayLucky number nine, hoorayBloody Mary, mother of GodGrandpa's on the hobbyhorse againDampen, broken pants chafingI'm running out of ethnic friendsButHey, I'm starting to feel okayLucky number nine, hooray
From Letras Mania