FFT - Huntingtons

Sitting in my room the thoughts

Are flying through my head

Tast inside my brain is tart

The contract’s on my bed

Smell the smell of cigar smoke

And i know who it is

Ideas are dumb the doors are shut

The messages are his

My buddly al drove off a cliff

And ran into a nail

He licks his wounds and wonders

How the tooth drove him to fail

He hates to park his car

Downtown on 16th avenue

Sometimes her eyes are green

And other times i think they’re blue

My sister is a mother

And my mother is a chore

My brother is a junkie

For the c.o.

music boards

I knew this guy who was so lazy

And he was so dumb

He slept all day and lost his job

And now he is a bum