Text:
Ball Park Music

I don't even know why I bother with the cinema I never feel amused, I always end up fine I cannot park my car in the busy bars at town I always get caught

see the spring committee Plummet to the bluey ocean floor 5 4 3 2 1 I know that I can find you I know that I can find you Buy a ball and cut his head

Nobody here knows my name They don't know where I'm from, or why I came But they're looking at me with angry eyes I did not ask to come here on the day

It was a very normal night I was attending a party And I had many different drinks Made from sweet fermented fruit I convinced myself Of certain little

Four letter words are my favourite words Haven't you heard? When I curse, I'm joy! Well, hon you know, nothing's right It never is, at least not tonight

The only figure I have seen is gone A ghost I made up in my dreams last night I toss and turn, I shake his hand If briefer night's encounters that I myself

Down that road There's a man who's lived his whole life Inside a rubber shoe He doesn't know what to do And young girls Spend their life calling him

hands of time and cuff 'em Cinderella man, Cinderella man Cinderella man, Cinderella man There's a storm comin' that the weather man couldn't predict I start the ball

play the back like Rosa Parks when the arc sparks I bang rawly, do you orally My horny sounds will pound more heavy than E-40 Sex, money, drugs, music