| PAIN (AMERICAN BAND)
- THIMBLEDROME - LYRICS
What's the matter? Who cares?
People running everywhere,
Running like decapitated chickens in the rain.
Never mind the poultry, I'd rather stay at home
I hope that my old lady's feeling like a lazy Jane
No one really thinks I'm funny,
Not the way that she does
She is stranger more than fiction,
Why don't we go take a drive and why don't we take your car?
Mine is nearly out of gas and nearly broken down.
Lighter flame and cheap Bordeaux
And incense wafting in the air
Steal a kiss and listen to the sound of falling rain
Never mind your diet,
I'd rather stuff our guts
Making funny faces on the windowpane
We run, we run, we run
And we're happy inside of this place
The walls are half the fun
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