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EISLEY >> Merchandise Links
EISLEY
Dear orthodox, I can't control my feelings, And who hit me? I just might be Coming round the bush And my stilts, they began cracking Subsequently pushed And I looked to see that it was she Just some abandoned little crook like me Adieu, adieu, and fare thee well This was the ending, please Oh, whoa... I was attached on bended knee But I declined my leave But who could blame A fraction of her being? She is cheesy, she is scrawny With her uncanny styling I'm teasing, she is pleasing She just has no wit And I'm sorry I don't have her face And I'm probably gonna lose this race There is no doubt she's such a mouse With such an abstract grace Oh, whoa... There is no cure, I am sure For these ten cent blues And then she chose to dissect me And I was casted into poverty But I did not agree with her She said, "Now, you've got nerve," But I don't care if I'm granted For all these things If I were one among this crowd Would you call that defeat? In a way it's making me crazy In a sense that it's making me stronger A likely chance, and it's probably proven In the end we'll all walk away Shaking hands on the doormat I salute you, sir A stranger and a happy fit I'm glad I'm part of it And that I saw it all
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