Strawberry Lemonade
In a dream, drinking strawberry lemonade
Feeding quarters to a pinball game
And getting paid to look the other way
My foam finger slapped me right in the face
I banged my head on the plexiglass
I can't remember where my house is at
And this "Mom's Against Drunk Driving" ad
Keeps playing on a loop in the back of the cab
Oh, what a pitiful hill to climb
Every night of my evil fucking life
208 to the end of the line
I swear, I'm really done this time
I said goodbye to my oldest friend
Who can barely string together sentencеs then
A hundred dollar bill folded into his hand
I'll see you on the other side of the fence
I need headphones to fall asleep
I close my eyes and I pretend to be
In my little home on Roastery
Step-dad reading Treasure Island to me
Pain is a way you can move through time
And visit people that are gone in your mind
And smooth over every wrinkle you find
The truth can't hurt you if you know it's a lie
I've had this thing that John said to me
Circling in my head the last few weeks
"We were raised on dreams that keep
Turning our fingers green"
A baby boomer's last acid trip
A pushing at the casket lid
Just some jacaranda petals in a basket
Wrapped up in plastic
Everything is an accident
God's truth is elastic
We sent him into the moon and back again
Strapped into a trash can
There's a consolation prize
In the corner of my mind
I will always be your friend
Feeding quarters to a pinball game
And getting paid to look the other way
My foam finger slapped me right in the face
I banged my head on the plexiglass
I can't remember where my house is at
And this "Mom's Against Drunk Driving" ad
Keeps playing on a loop in the back of the cab
Oh, what a pitiful hill to climb
Every night of my evil fucking life
208 to the end of the line
I swear, I'm really done this time
I said goodbye to my oldest friend
Who can barely string together sentencеs then
A hundred dollar bill folded into his hand
I'll see you on the other side of the fence
I need headphones to fall asleep
I close my eyes and I pretend to be
In my little home on Roastery
Step-dad reading Treasure Island to me
Pain is a way you can move through time
And visit people that are gone in your mind
And smooth over every wrinkle you find
The truth can't hurt you if you know it's a lie
I've had this thing that John said to me
Circling in my head the last few weeks
"We were raised on dreams that keep
Turning our fingers green"
A baby boomer's last acid trip
A pushing at the casket lid
Just some jacaranda petals in a basket
Wrapped up in plastic
Everything is an accident
God's truth is elastic
We sent him into the moon and back again
Strapped into a trash can
There's a consolation prize
In the corner of my mind
I will always be your friend
Credits
Writer(s): Alexandra Menne, Christian Hutson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 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.