Wiped out in the city slick
|
Another sick rock 'n' roller acting like a dick
|
Needing cash
|
Burning through the trash
|
That piles up in this place
|
And fills up behind my empty face
|
Full of things that I'm not to do
|
|
You come over with all of your friends
|
And all their opinions I don't want to know
|
And I'm looking over my shoulder
|
Booking away with nowhere to go
|
|
I run down to the corner lot
|
It's forty-five past two
|
I almost forgot to show
|
Got a date to make with Mr. So-and-So
|
After which
|
I won't care when you all start to bitch and moan
|
About being alone
|
|
You come over with all of your friends
|
And all their opinions I don't want to know
|
And I'm looking over my shoulder
|
Booking away with nowhere to go
|
|
Well, can't you just leave me alone?
|
You've already thrown all the sticks and stones
|
You had to send my way
|
Well, can't you just leave it at that?
|
And spare us both the bother
|
Because I just bounce back anyway
|
I got nothing that I want to do more
|
Than make another sonic "fuck you" to play
|
Whenever you make my life cliche
|
So to fit in some little box with the all the labeled shit
|
You would say to keep confusion away
|
|
You come over with all of your friends
|
And all their opinions I don't want to know
|
And I'm looking over my shoulder
|
Booking away with nowhere to go
|
|
You come over with all of your friends
|
And all their opinions I don't want to know
|
And I'm looking over my shoulder
|
Booking away
|
|
-----------------
|
Looking Over My Shoulder
|
| Elliott Smith |
