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Beck » Readymade |
An open road where I can breathe Where the lowest low is calling to me I can pull myself back up back down Stuck together like a readymade
And nobody knows where we been Cancelled rations are running thin Watches tick out of tune Falling apart like a readymade
My bags are waiting In the next life
Rubbish piles fresh and plain Empty boxes in a pawn shop brain License plates stowaway Standing in line like a readymade
And my bags are waiting in the next life
An open road where I can breathe Where the lowest low is calling to me I can pull myself back up back down Stuck together like a readymade
And my bags are waiting in the next life
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