Salt grips the road awaits his lift again street orange glow shades the odds against one
More sip a shoe a miss a shaving nick one extra kiss whos to know whatever not up
To me not up to you swings dont swing the parks been dead for years how do you
Know the last swing werent your last for good hard book on freaks fresh summer
Peach creased magazine sugar chocolate treat whos to know whatever not up
To me not up to you the streets so long where she lost her pocket purse kept the last
Picture of the man she committed first cracked windscreen rain french murder play
Junk take away tired street parades whos to know whatever whatever not up to me
Not up to you
Not up to anything we do