Right The First Time Around
I go out looking for lovers like I’m looking for a fight. I fall down like I’m drunk and I spit acid like I’m a drug-dealer with a sprinkler up his ass. I’m a mythical beast, I’m something that’s too hungry to see straight and too angry to bother trying to hide its feeling about you and your sexual lifestyle.
Aw well, fancy meeting you here. Didn’t really think it’d go just like this, never really thought we’d wind up hooking up in this sort of fashion.
She’s got this friend: and I’m scared I’m about to overpower him. She’s got this texture to her that reminds me of house-paint on a really warm day, when the fumes get in your eyes and your nose, and it’s so thick and sticky and heavy, you feel like you can’t even move, not forward anyway.
So yeah, we took it, we took our chance, we took our chances, we took all their chances, and we took over the scene, like a bunch of Fascist Scenesters, the sort of sad bastards who take over due to social stigma and then just get bored and trash the whole scene anyway.
Shit, I just wanna be myself. I just wanna get tired and fall over. I just want to rake my hand through my hair and feel like, I dunno, like something could be going on. Something with stereo colours and sounds that surround and you know, bits that dazzle and torment.
I’ve got lots of bits that’re designed to dazzle and torment, but I dunno how well we pull off the whole show anymore. We’ve rewritten the acts so many times, that all the details have gotten lost. Lost like little details, in the rain.
She’s like a little detail, so far away, getting lost in the rain.