i don't want my head to explode // feed them all to the dogs
Minimalist sweatshop art, signed sad fitzgerald
Lipton chicken noodle soup, christmas carols
She's a back door woman, she makes me do handstands
But she'll never give me a ladybug or a wicker chair
Swallowed searching for synonyms of sweet
Coin operated sailors tiptoe on ballerina feet
What's the use in calloused fingers if the hands attached aren't blue
Whoda thunk, they'd give a hog caller trophy to someone like you
Where's my prescription pair of groucho glasses?
It seems that the good times like to come, slow as molasses
Wouldn't be surprised to hear they got hunted by serotonin assassins
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
When will the spiders hatch today
They're blowing hurricanes away
They're watching hearts and palm trees sway
When can i get it right
When can i run the tape again
When can i finally have a win
With splinters shining in your shins
When can i sleep tonight
What time will gravity fail me
Will i have died in submarines
Or seen what little sights to see
When can i lose the fight
Feed them all, to the dogs
Feed them all, to the dogs
Feed them all, to the dogs
Feed them all, to the dogs
Lipton chicken noodle soup, christmas carols
She's a back door woman, she makes me do handstands
But she'll never give me a ladybug or a wicker chair
Swallowed searching for synonyms of sweet
Coin operated sailors tiptoe on ballerina feet
What's the use in calloused fingers if the hands attached aren't blue
Whoda thunk, they'd give a hog caller trophy to someone like you
Where's my prescription pair of groucho glasses?
It seems that the good times like to come, slow as molasses
Wouldn't be surprised to hear they got hunted by serotonin assassins
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
I don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning
When will the spiders hatch today
They're blowing hurricanes away
They're watching hearts and palm trees sway
When can i get it right
When can i run the tape again
When can i finally have a win
With splinters shining in your shins
When can i sleep tonight
What time will gravity fail me
Will i have died in submarines
Or seen what little sights to see
When can i lose the fight
Feed them all, to the dogs
Feed them all, to the dogs
Feed them all, to the dogs
Feed them all, to the dogs
Credits
Writer(s): Hunter Hart
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2025 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.