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Get Down With Your Bad Self

Dead And Divine


What is left of me sits burning in the bottom of this ashtray.
I'm an ugly mess, I'm full of it, and I'm a lame excuse for a poet.
It really all comes down to my love for misfortune.
A weak stomach and a mouthful of bad intentions. Watch your mouth!
Cause I'm the son of a gun, tempt not one in love.
I live my life by a night stand bible from a motel in limbo.
I have a way with failure and I'm the poster child for giving up on you.
And this lack of belief is what leaves me room for loving you.
Relax, come on - relax and give in I was born to make you moan.
You let her climb inside your ribs and let her tangle herself up in your bones.
Don't think for a second, that she gives a damn.
It's a shame you try so hard just for a girl. Who doesn't know your name or care to remember.
And it's a shame I can't remember anything.
I can't even recall your taste or the monster that I became.
I've tasted death, its graced my lips, I wanna give it back.
But I want you bad. I want you bad. You better watch your mouth, I'm the son of a gun.

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