It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche / When the pearls in our shells got out to dance / You call me a bad tipper of the cradle / But I’m just 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—from Carpal Tunnel of Love, on Infinity on High.
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