From The Recordings Html


She walked out of the driveway with a Mexican blanket searching for a bloody rematch
She was mad at the debris caused by a family stampede
And diggin' to salvage a waking rodeo

We are the missing
Some loved and some discarded
We are the cold
Trapped in the evidence

She doesn't recognize the face in the mirrored ceiling
No one would recognize that beauty queen at all

Traded a good time for a flickering CB
Tools of the trade are tools of survival
Flashing lights and an open dirty encounter
And breathing desperately for a historic inferno