Sorry for My Poor Taste in Quilts

I'm so sorry about my poor taste in quilts
The petri dish ran off and murdered the spoon
Who knew the tip of a pitchfork could kill
What gave your grandma the right to assume

There she goes, absence of fun
Deafening lawn mower hum
Launch a new rocket next week
Prey you'll find, if it's prey you seek

I'm so sorry about my mouth. God forbid
I try to remove the new blood from my bed
I try to remember that deed that you did
And end up tattooing my forearm instead

Hands on the wheel, eight and four
Open wide, give you some more
Heart attack, hollering pain
Lumberjack, dance in the rain



Credits
Writer(s): Henry Kennedy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link