A mechanics stigmata, work under the gun.
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Stuck under the hood, hiding from the sun.
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Sleep¡¯s not important, hunger¡¯s not around.
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Screwing like a freak, drooling like a hound.
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It has gotta click, nothing can go wrong.
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Gotta have it running not before too long.
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Petrol in my nostrils, chaos in my head.
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My palms keep drippin¡¯, staying out of bed.
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Hand me the wrench and the trucker speed.
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Gonna work ¡¯til I¡¯ve got hands that bleed.
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Deadline¡¯s approaching, morning has just come.
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Tightening the last bolt, have I made it run ?
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I turn the key, it awakes with a shout.
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I made it through the night, it¡¯s all set to take ¡¯em out.
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It has gotta click, nothing can go wrong.
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Gotta have it running not before too long.
|
Sleep¡¯s not important, hunger¡¯s not around.
|
Screwing like a freak, drooling like a hound.
|
|
Hand me the wrench and the trucker speed.
|
Gonna work ¡¯til I¡¯ve got hands that bleed.
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Hands That Bleed
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| Puffball |
