Text: Luke Doucet. Bombs Away.

Hey man don't say I didn't warn you,
that southern California is some day gonna fall away.
Do it, but all in moderation.
It hurts my reputation, what used to be is gone today.
Look mom, I pulled it from the bedrock.
I've living off the rhymne rock.
A special kind of crime that pays.
It's time now, a thousand pounds of cargo.
It's what I gotta let go.
One. Two. Bombs away.

Some of you kids have no regret,
You're drawn to win with nothing to lose.
I envy you and always you're cold water, with no lips to fill.

I'm drunk so the talk is slow motion.
The pogie and the ocean,
Just to keep the dawn away.
Pop art is dreaming up a new part,
Ripping up the chord chart.
Pick your own words to say.

I'm greasy, wash my dirty hair.
I'll wash until I'm sterile.
I'll rip an inch of dry skin away.
I dare you to go another fortnight, as sober as a stoplight.
One. Two. Bombs away.

Rocks star, give your drugs to skinny girls.
Too high to get it up.
No one comes today.
It's time now, a thousand pounds of cargo.
It's what I gotta let go.
One. Two. Bombs away

(Thanks to Claire for these lyrics)