Text:
Salad

You come to me at midnight and say, 'It's dark in here.' You know you robbed me of my sight, and light is what I fear I tell you that I can not see

me back White corpses turn to black I run on psychic gasoline, my fuel shall burn you all Chorus: Word Salad, no ballad Word Salad, no ballad Diabolic

Oh, I just found out, I've been tripping on the shadows of my doubts If you backed them up, the way we're taught to hide A rage that's ripping at me from

The Kansas sun, behind I left everyone There was no getting over, no place to hide With a future as open wide As the shirt on Travolta in 'Staying Alive

I said there's something in the way you move That makes me think that I'm in love with you There's something in the way you move That makes me think I

You and I in a little toy shop I'll buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got Set them free at the break of dawn Till one by one they were gone Back

I'd say for certain to watch over me Phone rings at half past three I'd say for certain to watch over me When the phone rings at half past three My mind

she says, "he's writing a novel" i told her that's called smoking dope she said a boy my age should have learned to cope by now, by now she's got more

when i had you too myself, i didn't want you around 'cause pretty faces always seem to stand out in the crowd but someone took you from the bunch, and