Throwing Muses Vicky's Box текст песни, слова песни Vicky's Box Throwing Muses
Throwing Muses - Vicky's Box
Won't ride in
Cars anymore
It reminds him of
Blowjobs
That he's a queer
And his hair
Stuck to the roof, over the wheel
Like a pigeon on a tire
Goes around
And circles over circles
And he's a queer
And his hair
On the roof
Like a pigeon
Goes around
Says he's a man
And his eyes
And his hair
And his eyes
Say he's a man
He won't ride anymore
He won't ride anymore
He won't ride anymore
Home is a rage
Feels like a cage
Home is what you read
How you breathe
Home is how you live
I feel boxed in
I feel boxed in
I feel boxed in
Think I'll be all right
Home is where the heart lies
The heart lies
The heart lies
Welcome home
Welcome home
Welcome home
It's under the strangle of winter (?)
I only love pieces of things that I hate
Like this box, this piece of roof
I can't grasp, can't see true
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