Last time I was past my prime
I didn't know when where how or what the fuck
But I took my cue
Had no clue
Threw my boot down the chute
And in a minute it was just a joke
Then my head went up in smoke
I was serious
Complete design in my mind
Had no track to roll back
Last time it was wicked clear
The scapegoat sun on the rise
Scraping the stars from god's ass
You look like a janitor wrapped in fur
And when the blues shot fierce
And pierced their ears
They grabbed their beers
And disappeared into the vacuum
With nothing but hives
Stingers in their thighs
And their rides took a ride
Last time I was not forseen
Don't you know you got it
The most you know you must enjoy
Cos alone like a busted toy
And when the blues shot fierce
Pierced their ears
They grabbed their beers
And disappeared into the vacuum
Stingers in their thighs
And they ride
And they ride
Fuck them up with the good stuff
Keep my hands so tan
Good stuff
I fuck them up with the good stuff
Keep my hands so tan
Good stuff
I fuck them up with the good stuff
Keep my hands so tan
Keep my hands so tan
I keep my hands so tan
I keep my hands so tan
Yeah
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NOTES:
An unreleased jam often played live in 1994.
APPEARS ON:
Unreleased Material
OTHER TITLES:
Disappear
Good Stuff
WRITTEN BY:
Beck Hansen
PERFORMERS:
Beck Hansen
Vocals, Casio
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