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Les Savy Fav - Disco Drive Lyrics



Les Savy Fav - Disco Drive Lyrics




Look-look-looking in the pink
While living in the red
Pissing in the sink-sink-sink
Too drunk to find the head
Beg-beg-begging for the black
Make me rich or make me dead


I want a little pick me up
So I won't stumble down tonight
Considering staying alive
Hitchhiking on the Disco Drive


Sometimes jobs turn to vacations
but always I must earn
Waiting for standing ovations
For filing my tax returns
Searching for zippers
but finding only seams
The seamstress for strippers
Must suspects my dirty peeking schemes*


I want a little pick me up
So I wont stumble down tonight
Considering staying alive
Wish I could only Disco Drive


A man can only do his best
I'm skipping steps and I'm taking breaths
Hold your horses, cool your jets
You can't make me be finished yet


Don't trust the poets, they want to get paid
They're plying their trade to the art of getting laid
Don't trust the prophets, their visions are fudged
They're buying our houses while selling us floods


The hours will get you
The owls will get you
When I was a swear word
The hours we shot-gunned
The hours will get you
The hours will get you
The owls will get you
The hours will get you
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Look-look-looking in the pink
While living in the red
Pissing in the sink-sink-sink
Too drunk to find the head
Beg-beg-begging for the black
Make me rich or make me dead


I want a little pick me up
So I won't stumble down tonight
Considering staying alive
Hitchhiking on the Disco Drive


Sometimes jobs turn to vacations
but always I must earn
Waiting for standing ovations
For filing my tax returns
Searching for zippers
but finding only seams
The seamstress for strippers
Must suspects my dirty peeking schemes*


I want a little pick me up
So I wont stumble down tonight
Considering staying alive
Wish I could only Disco Drive


A man can only do his best
I'm skipping steps and I'm taking breaths
Hold your horses, cool your jets
You can't make me be finished yet


Don't trust the poets, they want to get paid
They're plying their trade to the art of getting laid
Don't trust the prophets, their visions are fudged
They're buying our houses while selling us floods


The hours will get you
The owls will get you
When I was a swear word
The hours we shot-gunned
The hours will get you
The hours will get you
The owls will get you
The hours will get you
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: HARRISON HAYNES, SETH JABOUR, SYD BUTLER, TIM HARRINGTON
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

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