Will Wood And The Tapeworms - Front Street

I’m in a meat-pack plant by the gutterside A slaughterhouse apartment with a slice of lime I’m cruisin’ with the bruisers, boozin’, I’ll be a suitor, losing my mind. Because there’s nothing to find. The fetid stench of bad intentions hangs in the sweat I’m in a sauna hot with drama and I’m tryin’ to forget All the masochistic rapture mis-steps Imminent pleasure’s ready to cut. To the bone. You said “let loose!” But now you’re lost. While you tied your boots like a tightrope noose. The problem chased the taste of the cause. While the evidence supports the truth. Is 80 enough proof for you? Here’s to my lady and I’m coming inside Drink to me baby, and what’s left of what’s right. It’s easier to use and lose than never to have used you On a fucked up Saturday night. Good times on Front Street. Loose lips sink ships, captain, will you go down? Float your boat and overboard and hoping to drown. Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown alone. Because we know you’re not afraid. This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh The gnashing teeth will masticate the bone from the flesh Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I’ll see for myself. I think they might go to hell. You said “let loose!” But now you’re lost. While you tied your boots like a tightrope noose. The problem chased the taste of the cause. While the evidence supports the truth. Is 80 enough proof for you? Here’s to my lady and I’m coming inside Drink to me baby, and what’s left of what’s right. It’s easier to use and lose than never to have used you On a fucked up Saturday night. Good times on Front Street. LAST CALL FOR MORALS, BETTER COVER YOUR DRINK SODOM AND GOMORRA’D LET IT GO DOWN THE SINK