Eight Scratch

I wonder what you're doing

And who you're doing what with

I wish there was another you here

Insane to ask, even worse to do

The window's closing

But heat's still coming through

I wonder quick to see you

It's not so bad

All the games at Grand

And slamming every can

You've got more sparkle

Than eyes can handle

Our wired tin cans are full

I've emptied all my

Rotten thoughts into

A swiss cheesed canoe

It drains my bucket

It steams my cabbage

It drains my bucket

It steams my

Thought a good plan would do the trick

Wounds take time I know I'm sick

Let a few years sail down the tubes

I'll get better I'll get back to cool

Bud you can confide in me

We got everything you need

You're nowhere near the red