We made it to beach city
yellow trousers and a sun cap
dancin’ till the music out of season
we don’t need a reason stay here all night
treason. Makin’ love with the right one
till the end of the run- tonight- we dance
till the fire burns out,
oh shit we’re on fire
somebody do something
uhhhhhhhh false alarm
cryin’ wolf is not my party trick
maybe I’m just a little home sick
feelin’ to quick to stay but to weak to notice
hangin’ on by a thread flying lotus
pray for the bullet in my head thrusting
somebody do something
somebody do something
move something such a tough thing
just a pair of trousers
chasing this princess maybe I’m Bowser
keep tryin’ with some flowers
debate riskin’ it all but I’m such a coward
fuck it- off with the trousers.
Saint's Muse 