Outcall: Hotel visits only
You must be logged in to view this content. Please click the button below to log in.Login
The Arms Letra
Ever since a modern man Made himself an iron hand I was trapped inside again Trying to get out. Oh won't you take me to the hill? Put me in your Coupe de Ville Tell me that you love me still We could get out of here. We could eat the tasty pieces Of the peaches on the beaches Tell me what would be such fun Sitting in the garden sun. And you could go and meet my mom We could sit there all day long Tell me what would be so wrong Oh so wrong with that? Our life is a story Won't you read my story again?
Hacerme fan de Ty Segall. Inicio Ty Segall Letras. Letras de Ty Segall.
I woke up this morning and i hit a wall In my head i began to crawl To the nearest infirmary And to a doctor i would see He asked me what, what was wrong And so i told him my problem. I'm sick of the trophies I'm sick of the kids I'm sick of the kits with the ten dollar bips I'm sick of the dresses I'm sick of the hats I'm sick of the glasses with the painted on maps I'm sick of the man I'm sick of the dog I'm sick of the place with the fuckin fog I'm sick of you I'm sick of me I'm sick of everything i can see.