manic_panic
Bluelighter
“Hair of the Dog”
(Reed Rosson)
Freeze frame tickling from swampy sweats in the morning
cool whipped sluggish oh I look charmingly rugged
I study my catapulted thoughts lookin’ quirky ‘n piggish
My guilty smile introduces to you a friendly forewarning
(now you wait a moment my friend there’s a million much more mysteries behind my sins
but I haven’t shown you no fibs nor gigs just one happy-go-lucky shit-eating grin)
I will tell yall way fast, I favor a divine rabid canine
Hard to handle arched aching of my hollowed out cranium
My head feels like bloody-shit-lips splittin’ kisses wide open
I look grungy good skanky cuz I’m dead-sexy jerked-jonesin’
I lay down to rest awkwardly positioned crooked neck in my kingsize bed
Better off inside with white dog hair than out on a town painted red
I wake up feeling disturbed, disoriented, ‘n damn near dead
Better off takin’ it easy, a little sleazy, but hair of the dog will soon shed
(Howdy Tex, what’s next…?)
Should I tell twisted tales off top my ticking-time-bomb mind?
And of that cursed crack-smokin dream that caused a crick in my spine?
I asked you friendly to lend me a lemon ‘n you went ‘n sold me a lime
You’re a sourpuss, failing moon-shooter with a fatigued schoolboy whine
I puffed out my chest after you denied my request
I’d mess you up son but there’d be too much evidence to ditch
and drunken witnesses that curse during Christmas and deny alien existence and go to Café Cuckoo to talk nothing but nonsense
Hair of the dog is fluffed rough ‘n silky too
though I’ve got a finer life than a lot of you
I’m just passing this fat wicked phase on through
Whether I return to my home or hitchhike up to Malibu…
It don’t matter at all to me none
Hair of the dog spiked in style on the run
It don’t cross the minds of my friends
of my family nor of really anyone
Giddy, I yell “Yall don’t give a goddam than I’m bustin’ ass on the lam!”
and yes I use a tuff-ass tone of voice because I can
Maybe someday I’ll be in the sea watching a silenced sunset
more hung-over than the anchor in port with Jimmy Buffet
Whoa baby, after this disaster of a day, get some rest
Oh, oh, I ain’t scared to dare at least not to death
Hair of the dog stopped making me upset
When I was six or seventeen starting to have sex
(Anyhoo this part might be a little more dramatic none of it so far has been too tragic and it won’t in the end because it’s all some kind of magic and you never really know of the madness until you’re standing there when it happens)
My back has taken one rough lovely life’s lashings
soon enough I’m stuck panicked, pants-shitting ‘n spazzing
I’m just an ace racecar driver and boy I’m waiting for crashing
Thinking it over again, maybe my plans need rehashing…?
Oh no yall I’ve really got it good
but my schedule could use a prime rehashing
Yes, yes, plans could get a fragile fixen,
yes they could now they should get even in the mixin'
Dog hair is stuck to my favorite piece of faded fleece
like it’s a hand-me-down royal crown family tradition
Hair of the dog spotty shades of grey in my hoodie’s sleeves
To me it might as damn well be a new subtle sign of peace
With peace, love and harmony bein’ our mission,
we cheer, we drink, say thank you and please
Hair of the dog has now been groomed in the bedroom
Hair of the dog has been cleaned of its grease
~
(Reed Rosson)
Freeze frame tickling from swampy sweats in the morning
cool whipped sluggish oh I look charmingly rugged
I study my catapulted thoughts lookin’ quirky ‘n piggish
My guilty smile introduces to you a friendly forewarning
(now you wait a moment my friend there’s a million much more mysteries behind my sins
but I haven’t shown you no fibs nor gigs just one happy-go-lucky shit-eating grin)
I will tell yall way fast, I favor a divine rabid canine
Hard to handle arched aching of my hollowed out cranium
My head feels like bloody-shit-lips splittin’ kisses wide open
I look grungy good skanky cuz I’m dead-sexy jerked-jonesin’
I lay down to rest awkwardly positioned crooked neck in my kingsize bed
Better off inside with white dog hair than out on a town painted red
I wake up feeling disturbed, disoriented, ‘n damn near dead
Better off takin’ it easy, a little sleazy, but hair of the dog will soon shed
(Howdy Tex, what’s next…?)
Should I tell twisted tales off top my ticking-time-bomb mind?
And of that cursed crack-smokin dream that caused a crick in my spine?
I asked you friendly to lend me a lemon ‘n you went ‘n sold me a lime
You’re a sourpuss, failing moon-shooter with a fatigued schoolboy whine
I puffed out my chest after you denied my request
I’d mess you up son but there’d be too much evidence to ditch
and drunken witnesses that curse during Christmas and deny alien existence and go to Café Cuckoo to talk nothing but nonsense
Hair of the dog is fluffed rough ‘n silky too
though I’ve got a finer life than a lot of you
I’m just passing this fat wicked phase on through
Whether I return to my home or hitchhike up to Malibu…
It don’t matter at all to me none
Hair of the dog spiked in style on the run
It don’t cross the minds of my friends
of my family nor of really anyone
Giddy, I yell “Yall don’t give a goddam than I’m bustin’ ass on the lam!”
and yes I use a tuff-ass tone of voice because I can
Maybe someday I’ll be in the sea watching a silenced sunset
more hung-over than the anchor in port with Jimmy Buffet
Whoa baby, after this disaster of a day, get some rest
Oh, oh, I ain’t scared to dare at least not to death
Hair of the dog stopped making me upset
When I was six or seventeen starting to have sex
(Anyhoo this part might be a little more dramatic none of it so far has been too tragic and it won’t in the end because it’s all some kind of magic and you never really know of the madness until you’re standing there when it happens)
My back has taken one rough lovely life’s lashings
soon enough I’m stuck panicked, pants-shitting ‘n spazzing
I’m just an ace racecar driver and boy I’m waiting for crashing
Thinking it over again, maybe my plans need rehashing…?
Oh no yall I’ve really got it good
but my schedule could use a prime rehashing
Yes, yes, plans could get a fragile fixen,
yes they could now they should get even in the mixin'
Dog hair is stuck to my favorite piece of faded fleece
like it’s a hand-me-down royal crown family tradition
Hair of the dog spotty shades of grey in my hoodie’s sleeves
To me it might as damn well be a new subtle sign of peace
With peace, love and harmony bein’ our mission,
we cheer, we drink, say thank you and please
Hair of the dog has now been groomed in the bedroom
Hair of the dog has been cleaned of its grease
~
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