Paroles The Last Ones Up Became Lovers de The Brokerdealer

The Brokerdealer
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  • Artiste: The Brokerdealer31952
  • Chanson: The Last Ones Up Became Lovers
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Textes et Paroles de The Last Ones Up Became Lovers



The last ones up become lovers
The last ones up become lovers

The last ones up become lovers
The last ones up become lovers
The last ones up become lovers

The last ones up become lovers

I just got back from a bender
The skin on my back all scratched up in splinters
I spent the night in the right field bleachers

Met up with six stick tweakers
And a seventh grade teacher
Said it didn't matter
Said school's out for the summer

And the nightclubbers bounce like rubber
And they bounce into sweaty slumber
Sharing wine like they did at the last supper

The last ones up become lovers
The last ones up become lovers
The last ones up, they always become lovers

And if the night is a storm
And then it washed us ashore

Woke up in the grandstand
Poking holes with a hair pin
Through a flattened out Sprite can
We make our pipes with whatever we can, man

We've got nails through our hands
And alcoholic tans
I've got good friends in bad bands
I know bad guys in great bands

It starts out under the guise of a back rub
And the last ones awake,
They always make love
And the last ones awake,
They always seem to make love

It starts out with a back rub
And the last ones awake,
They always seem to make love
The last ones awake,
They always make love

And it starts with a back rub
And it ends up in backlash
And it starts with an eyelash
And it ends with a thrashing

And it starts out high fashion
And it ends up in rags
And it starts out with pony bags
And it ends up on scales

And it starts out with consumption and possession
But always exercising a little bit of discretion
And it ends up in sales

We started out going out on the town
We ended up stuck at home waiting to come down
We started out chasing our dreams
We ended up getting chased all over by our nightmares
And now we're sending up flares

We're breaking off the flame guards
On disposable lighters
We're scroungers, not fighters
We're hookers not lovers

Forty days and forty nightclubbers
Forty days and forty nightclubbers

And the last ones up become lovers

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