Strange facination, end of the day
Roots are tied and uninspired
Two thousand records won't play anymore
Always had the time
Tape, VCR, news, and old ripped picks
There's too much red in the room
There's too much red
There's too much red in the room
You seem to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your Matchbox cars and plastic guitars
And the twelve bar blues brigade
You seems to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your pocket was torn from a fist from a corpse
And the best one's got away
The basement's got a smell but I like it that way
Obsessive, compulsive, relentlessly frosted
TV shows with no conversation
Seem to make the time creep slow
I'm waiting around from place to place to place
Roots are tied and uninspired
Two thousand records won't play anymore
Always had the time
Tape, VCR, news, and old ripped picks
There's too much red in the room
There's too much red
There's too much red in the room
You seem to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your Matchbox cars and plastic guitars
And the twelve bar blues brigade
You seems to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your pocket was torn from a fist from a corpse
And the best one's got away
The basement's got a smell but I like it that way
Obsessive, compulsive, relentlessly frosted
TV shows with no conversation
Seem to make the time creep slow
I'm waiting around from place to place to place
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