Salt grips the road awaits his lift again street orange glow shades the odds against one

More sip a shoe a miss a shaving nick one extra kiss whos to know whatever not up

To me not up to you swings don't swing the parks been dead for years how do you

Know the last swing werent your last for good hard book on freaks fresh summer

Peach creased magazine sugar chocolate treat whos to know whatever not up

To me not up to you the streets so long where she lost her pocket purse kept the last

Picture of the man she committed first cracked windscreen rain french murder play

Junk take away tired street parades whos to know whatever whatever not up to me

Not up to you

Not up to anything we do