The She The Breeders

Ripped off
You smoked the Bible
Rolled it up
Your last breath
Hot on my back
You get started
Try to get somewhere
You move so slow
You're not even here

Dear traveller
Dear traveller

It's my death
My rhythm
My arithmetic
I got used to
Nobody ridin' in the back

Sorrow blowin' through the vents
I'm over Houston
You're over the night we met
Over the night we met

Dear traveller
Dear traveller