We take sour sips
From life's lush lips
And we shake shake shake the hips
In relationships
Stop by this disaster town
You'll put your eyes to the sun and say "I know."
You're only blinded to keep back what the clouds are hiding
And we might have started singing just a little soon
We're throwing stones in a glass room

Whoa oh oh it's a miserable story
Whoa oh oh far from the genuine becoming

We keep the beat,
With your blistered feet
We bullet the words at the mockingbirds, singing
Slept through the weekend
And dreamed
We're sinking with the melody of the kiss of eternity
Got house calls from my pharmacist, saying; "How you been?"
We might have said goodbyes just a little soon
(somehow this disaster town)
Our beliefs of kissing beats over this room

Whoa oh oh it's a miserable story
Whoa oh oh far from the genuine becoming
Whoa oh oh it's a miserable story
Whoa oh oh far from the genuine becoming

It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche
When the pearls in our shells came out to dance
You call me a bad tipper of the cradle
But I’m tired yawns for fawns on hunter’s lawns
We’re the has-beens of husbands
Sharpening the knives of young wives
Take two years and call me when you're better
Take teardrops of mine, find yourself wetter

Whoa oh oh it's a miserable story
Whoa oh oh far from the genuine becoming
Whoa oh oh it's a miserable story
Whoa oh oh far from the genuine becoming