Pavement "Black Out" |
Sunday driving past your own hall of fame It's closed on weekdays, shut for good Pick out no one when you're talkin' Felt like rattlesnakes were walkin' No one has a clue The parting shots, the thin caught Fault line dancing across the frigid air shafts A spastic grass, a criminal's child Count to ten and read Until the lights begin to bleed Lights; til you actually a-see the rays And your thoughts they start turning Tells you lessons that you're learning No one has a clue The gauzy thoughts of those dirty scots Wrestling with the elements up on the trail high I need to know Where does it go? How do I get there? What will I find? (Fun fun fun, fun for the summertime blues) (It's gonna set you free) Lyric from www.lyricmania.com |