12 Missed Calls

I've got my apparition tracksuit on
But enough of death
It's a white on white jigsaw puzzle
With two tickets to the heavenly landfill
It's a backwash bungalow
A black hole fixer-upper
With some false hope carpet cleaner
And a TV dinner last supper

Try me on the telecaster
Not a telephone I never answer
Twelve missed calls
One true thing gives way

I had the taste of bullets in my mouth
Pressure washed all the bitter out
At the blank stare waterpark
I left my luggage in the overhead
Mood swing storage unit

Hand trucked in a mannequin
To take my place in this conversation
You can catch a party on the phone
But if he hollers better let him go



Credits
Writer(s): Joel Myers
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link