Wicked Strawberry Blondes

Cover Image



Well you look so fuckin' gone,

Drinkin' Wicked Strawberry Blondes,

As I suck down the car bombs-- we love alcohol.

And you kiss me on the couch--

Ask me what I'm thinkin' 'bout--

Ask me what I think I'll spout out before the fall.

And the matches on the floor,

They don't mean much anymore.

I can't light your cigarettes like I did before.


And the drugs, they cloud my head,

But they help me get to bed,

'cause I'd think of her--

instead now I think of you.


You said "She doesn't seem so blue,

"I don't think she's missin' you.

"I don't think she gives a thought to what you do."


So I'll leave this fuckin' place,

Let the rain drip down my face,

Let the tears forget incase they might think of you.

Created: Jan 12, 2011


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