mrs. e roosevelt never heard me shoot my gun
mrs. e roosevelt didn't even know i owned one
somewhere between the cobblestone floor and the slated wooden ceiling
cuddling my semi-automatic
what a very fuzzy feeling
oh.there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun
oh we're born alone and then we're covered by m-m-m-mother's kisses
the mind has already forgotten what the body still misses
somewhere between the sticky floor and the cracks in the ceiling
cuddling my semi-automatic
what a very fuzzy feeling
oh.there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun
there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun