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• Artiste: Bob Mould
• Titre: Thirty Dozen Roses
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Some days, my brain blows up in an elegant way My muse, short fuse, time bomb, what's left to lose? Olive branches piled up at your door You don't let me come inside your place no more I lose track of myself as I fall to the bottom of a wishing well My bones, they break so clean, leave a perfect space between You adorned with ornamental jewels And me, a thorn, I'm such a lousy prick to you Chocolate doesn't faze you any more You found a sweeter filling, this is rotten to the core The swollen hollow of my wobbly heart Thirty dozen roses, that might be a start I'm feeling hopeless Thirty dozen roses Olive branches piled up at your door You don't let me come inside no more The swollen hollow of my wobbly heart Thirty dozen roses, that might be a start I'm feeling hopeless Thirty dozen roses I'm feeling hopeless Thirty dozen roses I'm feeling hopeless Thirty dozen roses