clock winding steadily down Imagining footsteps, your hand at the gatepost The wind shuts the open door The wind shuts the open There, I almost got caught again
Back in the San Juan Mountains again On a ride with some good old boys Telling stories around a campfire The sound of laughter is the loudest noise There?s something
someone now just please help me? Can someone now please help me? Will someone now just please help me? Dear number one fan, I gotta lot to tell you But with
broken glass and drooped against the wall I hung the phone up many times on angels when they rang Their melodies were sickly sweet like overripe meringues I was born with something
Derek D: Ita??s like something deep inside was the catalyst/ Brave to the bone, blame it on the tone of the catho-/ -lick this wound, say something wrong
matter what yer doing if you start givin' up If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
that for fucks sake? The world is daily threatened with annihilation, Is that really something to be trivialased? The world is under constant threat. Against
from her again That night I tossed turned lying on my bed and Crying praying with these thoughts running through my head and Did she do it take her life and wind
second I just leap a degree Defeating me is harder to do than getting something cheaper than free C'mon Flow Session Number 2 Flow Session Number 2 Flow Session Number
me constantly constantly without without without without again without again your telephone numbers move across the water the ocean between us opens the silence is indifferent and love love love love love walks with
skateboards again the Summer never ended Skin hit the wind the young and the splendid 7-11 heavenly parking lot laughs in the night Grinning and spending time with
and the script unfolds [Chorus x2] I get back around three We can do it more again Message to them hater middle finger to the wind Let my chain swang, with
goes to show you, and it'll show you once again that . . . A Mountain is something You don't wanna fuck with You don't wanna fuck with Don't fuck around
go back if I could (to the) People of the south wind, people of the southern wind It's the people of the wind, I got to be there again Well, it's a
crooked bed with dirty feet and shaky hands the numbers on the clock read one-one-four-oh- ay em I've got tyme to clean myself then sell my soul again
G's, and blow trees in the wind With a zip, I'm there, telling tales, out on bail SWAT's tales of rolling boulders and breaking shoulders Taking me closer to a poacher with
man get ripped And this is the part where my manuscripts transists From state of thought to something self scientific Cali Agent Number two, bleedy eye Who wanna run with