Idle Hands
ERIC WHITNEY
I've got too much on my mind
Plus your mind on my plate
I've got a fucked up sense of
What they call love and hate
I'd like to place my hand
On your neck once more
And this time I'll squeeze even after
You leak on my floor
I've got too much time on my hands these days
And I feel my idle hands
Starting to wander away
I think I'll just sit alone
In my absent brain
It's not like I've got anywhere
Else to spend my day
I swear to not! I swear to not!
I swear to not! I swear to not
I am a bastard, I am a fatherless hope
You told me faster
Down on the floor on all fours
I am a bastard, I am a bastard
I am a bastard (I am a bastard)
I swear to not! I swear to not!
I swear to not! I swear to not
