Malady Bad Life Letras:
Somewhere around the valley of the rouge, pissing
cheap words on handbills and riding with death.
Where all the lucky ones get ruined. When you'd
rather get ruined than half eaten 'cause we're all
beaten. Rather fluent in bruises, defeated and
we're all afraid but so brave. But from womb to
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grave and everything in between it gets real
fucking mean, and you wondy why I drink? I wonder
why we're not all drunks sunk in our dumps where
nothing changes. But at least we don't have to
play. Faces wax fact repossessed, collapsed jaws,
blood-nosed faces, playing the lotto when they
know they should be drinking 56, 12, 27 and 12.
Even though I bet, I cheat myself.
Letras: Bad Life Malady [final]