Crushed Bones

Here's To inhaling crushed bones Through a dried up White out pen And riding the backwards racer In hot June rain In a matching blue and gold Plastic bag / poncho / raincoat. It's a wooden coaster With a medium hill height mean, High hill to flat ground ratio You know I'd sell my shingles For a thimble dip of snow. Back then I'd've sold my single For a fingertip of glow. And us in navy blue hoodies And khakis, as was the style that year. In London, Where the sirens yelp Like a helpless dog With its paw stepped on, And the rain comes down in late July And the record labels call you Why? And your eyes are slits in bags of fat And your eyes are piss holes in the snow I swear, The riders on the tube Tie razors to their elbows, The riders on the tube Keep cold coal in their billfolds, The riders on the tube Will hide cocaine in their shell toes, And yes yes yes man They'll novocaine their hello's Till the constables got pit bulls With their paw bones all stepped on Till the constables got pit bulls With crushed bones up their nose holes And us in fish net hat And canvas shoes, as was the style that year