pizza sauce

Follow 0 fans

Seamus

5:19

1 View

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer

Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
Cannot roll with me if you don't already know
I'm the type of guy who don't like to go where I don't need to
I just stay in my room and I stow away the stowaways
Under the floorboards, baby
I'm maybe gonna hurt you pretty bad
So don't get closer,
Get closer
No don't,
Get out
See, it's a little bit complicated
I'm a piece of shit without an ultimatum
I don't like tomatoes, in fact, I hate tomatoes
But I like 'em in pizza sauce
Oh, I've been living it up like I'm Diana Ross
If you're looking for the leader, baby, I'm the boss
Catch me when I'm falling from my tower
Power, hour after hour
I'ma make it feel louder in your eardrums
Gonna rock you like a baby in the bass of the bass drum
Kick it like I'm kicking in your tummy tum
What?
Baby, what is really going on behind me?
Is it scary? Is it funny? Is it blinding?
Does the drip work in the moment we are finding?
Can you sound it out?
Baby, what is really going on behind me?
Is it really burning down so quick around me?
Does my outfit look the part for being drowned in?
When we get dragged out
My god I got the swanging swag
Of saggy bags of tag-alongs
The jeans are tight, the shirts are baggy flannel ones
I dress the best to impress atomic bombs
And I freshly pressed to the press with the baddest bonds
I fondly front the field of dressing sweet
Like a frond of something tilled to sweeten tea
I've moved on beyond the gills and missing feet
Yeah, I've been soft enough to feel it through the sheet
I pinch posh pink piggies lying on feets of the dudes
Who choose to properly pickle beets without a bowl
They're told to suckle the sugar needed
It's a treat, treat
I rinse, wash, drip, dry, and repeat
I wear shoes so ruined that they barely fit on my feet
Without a hole, they're old
That doesn't mean they're defeated
Cause they're neat, neat, they're neat
To be a vagabond with sweaty palms
The paddles gone around the bend, bend, bend
To fend the phoney allegories, all the stories
Path is drawn to end, end, end, end, end, end
Defeat is what to read it is
If words are really what it says
When books and music are to art
What pencils sharpeners are to pens
It all depends on dividends and fashion trends
And toxic friends to have defence against the loneliness
That fends the pensive penning pens
Of all the artists who work hardest
Making widdled wires end, end, end, ay
When to bend the trendy tense contenders music into art
Offends the tons of tens of be-it friends
Or enemies who start to get defensive
When their gently tented egos start to spend a tender
Render of a rip and sip the ends of better lips,
It's bittersweet
Or so it seems to be to me
The story lends itself to quips, whips
Lashings of the tongue, his drip
It is so drastic at this young
Baby, what is really going on behind me?
Is it scary? Is it funny? Is it blinding?
Does the drip work in the moment we are finding?
Can you sound it out?
Baby, what is really going on behind me?
Is it really burning down so quick around me?
Does my outfit look the part for being drowned in?
When we get dragged out

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com