Crooked Fingers

Don't you know, there's a bad man coming? Creeping down through the spanish moss, and trees. Rising

Don't say a word. Don't tell me what you heard There's something tonight, Thats killing

Dead in the sun and covered in glue There is a town where nothing moves Nobody works and nobody plays

If it's summer, sing me a song tonight. There's a typhoon blowin. There's a typhoon blowin.

In the wake of our new favorite the old familiar used up face crept up from the crowded bottom of the

Went to see my fortune teller To see which way the winds were blowin' She said you'll probably get

Holding hands at the border Found it hard to let you go You found easy crossing over that road on your own

You can waste your precious time Trying to erase all your thin little crimes Making no waves, tiny drops in

she tows the line up the river, through the low lands hanging out on the jetty, by the arcade, it

Drinking sparkling wine, And sniffing glue. I've been looking for some soft abuse. Maybe your big

I lifted you up, You pulled me down. You turned into some sacred cow. Unchanging, you froze in the

Blue eyes of fire Sweet desire Is bitter torture You are no father's daughter No man has this

Angelina, out of reach theres no reason now for you to run Angelina, theres no meaning to all the bad things that

they say the Devil never cries but baby on the sad day we said goodbye my baby red tears

In my dreams every time your apocalypse is mine With you 'live', with you 'die' Keep