When the feeling comes it always leaves,
|
to the top of the hill,
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the hill of thieves.
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Brush that curious out.
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Hurry away.
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You've got the hole in your head to feel the breeze.
|
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If you're gonna ride, baby,
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ride a/the wild horse.
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I/we can't drink no more,
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but I'll/we'll try.
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You can't find us, baby,
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in the basement.
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And it/I slug your in your fucking head.
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-----------------
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Gloria News
|
| Kyuss |
