Maritime
Apple Of My Irony
Weeds, the apple of my ironyin time you open up your woundsso you've got something to cauterize weedsI'm growing lines around my eyesthey're called smile linesis that how I got mine?We can grow out of our shoesthere's no time so there's no timeto lose on this fireballwe're riding on we're firing onWeeds, so many bars and resting hauntsso many here so many goneIf walls could talk they'd say we can grow out of our shoes there's no timeso there's no time to lose on this fireball we're riding on
From Letras Mania