Paroles de Young Man's Glory, Old Man's Blues
all the old creeps crawling with their stale wine midnighter'scomedown, and the strayhound calling, eight straight with not one
sober round. 1-2-3-4, the loose tooth made you taste the floor, the
old shopping carts fallin after me, vultures swarm so you know it's
me and they're going out, they're going out. a young man's glowing
with a thought of no, no, no you don't, and so you just trip, slip,
smother me, it's just what the fuck that mothers me, 1-2-3-4,
disease, bashed and gashed for final score, with all the dicks with
tits home free, you'd have to hook line and sinker me, and they're
going out....
disease, bashed and gashed for final score, with all the dicks with
tits home free, you'd have to hook line and sinker me, and they're
going out....
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