The Taste of – Fuck that, I’m not giving up. Now you can’t blame me for enjoying a little self wallow now and then,It helps to distill the blood,But now that I’m back to pumping hundred-proof–honest-to-god more flammable than a grain elevator on a dry summer day,you and I need to have a little talk …
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It ain’t like the old days,When a little small-talk,Some half-assed awkward glances,Was enough to decide I was in love with you,And whatever baggage you have waiting at claim. It used to be,Romance and summer,Hand in hand,Over-saturated orange,And smells of dried grass,Long drips of sweat,Bare assed,Lounging in sunlight, It ain’t like the old days,Now it’s desperate …
