Flophouse


Cool-aid & cigarettes
Never ending conversations
Old plaid couch, one window
Our not so secret hide away
Is it day,is it night?
Does it matter?
Tree's murderer to ramble a hundred page's
Little sence made of these page's later
Months spent in babble town
The circus took me right in...
I FIT RIGHT IN
Deaf to my ingenious leader's
Thrown away with ease, my innocence
Not even they'd be heard over the ringing in my ears
Break-up our act, our band, our secrets
What kind of circus is leftover?
Not a sideshow at all, no gimmicks
Scatter us to hurricane winds
Spread us all over hell, heaven & back
I guess...
We'll Always Have The Circus

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