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Orange Island




Альбом Orange Island


The Morning After (2004)
2004
1.
2.
3.
4.
The Last Yellow Days Of Anna Lauzonia
5.
. . .


Walking in and immediately sizing up the place
Constantly looking for those eyes, that smile, that face
Painting the town red until I find her
Painting the town red until I'm better, until these words are said

Hey take off your Sunday best because I bet you look just as good
In just a t-shirt and jeans when you're casually dressed
And lead me to your casual excess because I bet you look even better
When you're biting back your silent scream
Going from flirt to silent scream

We're leisurely sipping
And casually lipping this love affair across a crowded floor
Wasting the moments that are our lives
To the beat of a rather predictable dance song, this casual lifestyle now

So take off your Sunday best because I bet you look good
In just your t-shirt and jeans when you're casually dressed
And lead me to your casual sex because I bet you look even better
When biting back a silent scream... going from flirt to silent scream

Sorry, it's a sign that I'm a guy
And I guess this type of shit is just always on my mind

. . .


So aren't you disappointed yet, wasting a kiss at a point in time
When brothers betray and lovers fall away from truth
With eyes closed tight
And it's only cold at night when you sleep alone after drinking alone
With her picture propped up against your phone

So aren't you disappointed yet, mouth in fist at a point in time
When no one's supposed to find out about it
But can he still lie about it through the silence of baby's breath
Out of sight, out of mind, right? well how does he sleep at night
Knowing it's all painted and knowing it's all fake, oil based, two faced
And drowning in the makeup that she cakes her filthy face with
Drowning in the makeup that cakes her lying face

Waking up on the wrong side of golden eyes
Yours finally opened to the stooping low trends
Of a her and a him that could give two shits about telling the ugly truth to a loving and trusting you, a once loving and trusting you

And now it's the same cliché crutches again
Different chicks in different beds, drugs, alcohol and Radiohead
Drinking with or without best friends to "Ok Computer" or "The Bends"
Sorry, but "Drugs" and "Kid A" were too cliché even for me
But you know this

. . .


She teasingly turns you on slowly
Like a bee sting burn or what dawn does to morning
She's beautiful when she wakes up from insomniac evenings
Laughably easy return to menotyny after altered states and dreaming
Brunette eyes with blond kisses

But your love for another her grabs you by the jugular
And squeezes hard your tidal wave heart

Look in the mirror and hate what you see
But love your reflection when mirrored in her eyes, a lesson in vanity

And sickly you hope that she disappears
When you're not looking at her, when she's not here with you
Thinking she should've lived every moment of her life
Waiting just to be here with you tonight
Oh the shitty thoughts of being a guy

She closes her eyes as she cums
Close your eyes and she becomes someone you want her to be
She becomes you and you are not me

Life becomes one big apology to someone we haven't even met yet
Someone who probably doesn't even exist yet
Another her that's just all in your head, just another lesson in vanity

. . .

The Last Yellow Days Of Anna Lauzonia

[Нет текста]

. . .


Tasting the now so familiar faced favorites of this life, this love at least
16 matching menuscia point fingerprints left only on a tongue

It all comes flooding back in bottles capped with talking heads
Debilitating like heaven in stale beer bullet fume
Moments you can taste it, be it... bottles capped with talking heads

We're drunks more than alcoholics
We don't have that many responsibilities
We live month-to-month, check-to-check
We're just bottles capped with talking heads
No kids to abandon, no women depending on us for support
We only hurt each other and then forget about it the morning after
It's always the morning after

. . .


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