Lyrics i don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning // feed them all to the dogs - The Blunt Force Trauma
Minimalist
sweatshop
art
Signed
sad
fitzgerald
Lipton
chicken
noodle
soup
Christmas
carols
She's
a
back
door
woman
She
makes
me
do
handstands
But
she'll
never
give
me
a
lady
bug
Or
a
wicker
chair
Swallowed
searching
for
synonyms
of
sweet
Coin
operated
sailors
tip-toe
on
ballerina
feet
What's
the
use
in
calloused
fingers
if
the
hands
attached
aren't
blue
Whoda
thunk
They'd
give
a
hog
caller
trophy
to
someone
like
you
Where's
my
prescription
pair
of
groucho
glasses
It
seems
that
the
good
times
like
to
come
slow
as
molasses
Wouldn't
be
surprised
to
hear
they
got
hunted
by
serotonin
assassins
I
don't
want
my
head
to
explode
this
tuesday
morning
I
don't
want
want
my
head
to
explode
this
tuesday
morning
I
don't
want
my
head
to
explode
this
tuesday
morning
I
don't
want
my
head
to
explode
this
tuesday
morning
When
will
the
spiders
hatch
today
They're
blowing
hurricanes
away
They're
watching
hearts
& palm
trees
sway
When
will
I
get
it
right
When
can
I
run
the
tape
again
When
can
I
finally
have
a
win
With
splinters
shining
in
your
shins
When
can
I
sleep
tonight
What
time
will
gravity
fail
me
Will
I
have
died
in
submarines
Or
seen
what
little
sights
to
see
When
can
I
lose
the
fight
Feed
them
all
to
the
dogs
Feed
them
all
to
the
dogs
Feed
them
all
to
the
dogs
Feed
them
all
to
the
dogs
Feed
them
all
to
the
dogs
1 doing my own stunts
2 I Blow Smoke (Like a Dragon)
3 playing the piano, drunk
4 the lateness of the hour
5 never pay full price for late pizza
6 that shadow keeps following me
7 breakfast, lunch, & dinner when you die
8 planting painted flowers in warsaw
9 teething all the time
10 nothing in the dark
11 they say jesus was a capricorn
12 where have all the anvils gone?
13 how i won the war
14 am i supposed to laugh?
15 a different kind of death
16 i don't want my head to explode this tuesday morning // feed them all to the dogs
17 that don't sound all that bad to me
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