Harvey Keitel Is The Man Portugal. The Man

(These lyrics need a lot of work)

Stewing in the
[miss outer hull they do?]
The clips all turn their heads about us
Down here

We're hiding
In this hollowed out basement so
Perfect for my hiding place

So what's the place that's fit to lay our heads?
And hide it
And hide it

So what's the place that's fit to lay our heads?
And hide it
And hide it

The bowel skins lined with poisons
Of your own decor
That's a hell that's the hell we've been waiting for

The bowel skins lined with poisons
Of your own decor
(of your own decor)
That's a hell that's the hell we've been waiting for