Wasted on a parkbench in May
Stuck between a Texaco and the Eastside hotel
And the used-car salesman
He's a-talkin' to you
Wavin' a cigarette around
Sayin' there's not a lot more you can do
Alright
Thinkin', is this all that here is?
I'm kinda feelin', it should have been so much more than this
And whatever drove you
Is now turnin' you 'round
Man, if you ever make it back unharmed
There's no knowin' what you'd find
I said at least for a minute, man, I'd rather not be talking to you
Because we're going out of business and I'm lookin' for excuses to live
And mama's only son is never comin' home again
Sleepin', or not sleepin' at all
Stayin' awake with your punk-rock-trash
And your push-up routine
Man, you always knew to have a bad, time didn't you
And it didn't really matter where you are
Or could you make it down the street
Could you make it that far?
Hey what's wrong with you? (x3)
Ah you're not meetin any good people
Just a-wasting on a parkbench in May
Just get up in the mornin'
Fine-fine-fine
Just five more minutes
Getting too much sleep
Sleepin' on your feet
Always into trouble
Always in a bubble
Always taking smiles
Always telling lies
Just give me a minute
Hey what's wrong with you? (x3)
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
