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Correct Untitled #12 Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: J
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John Frusciante
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Correct Untitled #12
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Lyrics:
Blind your head in catastrophe icicles No-one's fed in cycles led by cycles dead Ask to shine the flag Love is distance and blue sits like apples bite And flows through our hands I said hi' to a man who shot his sister Panned through the station And jumped in front of a train Said I'm a bit confused to meet you Life's what scissors do to a day So their smiles pave the way Sand drips with waves And clouds my head 'cause I'm a fortune fellah's bed And I'm the tunes played by the goons Who ride in fairy's wombs And stole the road the other way And sold tomorrow to yesterday and I know the feeling of pushing you out of a building Tiny people pulsating hit the sky Still the ground got up and wiped your face You expected to fly, wind up your misfortune Sling 'em to a maitre-dee Who wears dead butterflies on his face And is hoping to grow wings He really wants to tell you Hey give your tears to today' Grind yourself souvenirs under your stolen years Hands in your pockets Your hands getting numb been hurt in grinds jive Do the avenues that seem to meet defeat you Did you ever try to hug the sky behind your head I walked forever sightseeing a screen Shuffled a mean green ping Dives head first into a hole in the water Drives side to side like a floating machine Dove dancing to a fable told to a sea of disintegration Crawl to a celebration of dirt that leaves that taste of wine Sucked from a hair that digs into the darkness Full of the fair that my head rides. I slide your kind through a ladder Hanging on a star Stray close so far Away from the climb A tape like section of introspection To rewind would be to recline. Hit the pounds underlying gently Ride on the side Tell your problems to zero He's got nothing to hide.
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