Tropical Fuck Storm

Lose The Baby

Tropical Fuck Storm


The night sits upon a golden song
With a noose in her bag
She said, "Listen boy you better run, run, run"

Down on the street they're trying to steal her car
With cold lips, blue hearts
Saying, "Lose the baby or you won't get far"

And if you think that it, cuts me up
I'm gonna sharpen up my tongue and really
Cut you up
And if you think that it, gets me down
I'm gonna gather all my strength and really
Drag you under

Here comes a drummer with the golden arm
Hes got a noose in a bag
He wants to hang it on the singer with the golden lung
Shes singing, "you're sunglasses and i'm white light"
Out here on the moonless ocean you sing
Be-bop-a-Lula baby that's alright

And if you think that it, cuts me up
I'm gonna sharpen up my tongue and really
Cut you up

And if you think that it, gets me down
I'm gonna gather all my strength and really
Drag you under

And down on the beach they're all covered in fun
With cold hearts, hot action
I see a five foot doll and a seven foot bruiser

And back up on the street they are still painted blue
They're only wishing on a star
Saying, "Lose the baby or you won't get far"
You might also likeAnd if you think that it, cuts me up
I'm gonna sharpen up my tongue and really
Cut you up

And if you think that it, gets me down
I'm gonna gather all my strength and really
Drag you under

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