Gun wears his alcoholism well
Finger in bottle and swingin it still
From bed to sink and back again
Clock is crawlin round the same
Hes bustin clock (he hates its face)
Just sittin and talkin to heart and ticks
Talkin back to clock in slow and studied kicks
The fears of gun are the fears of everyone.
Fingers down the throat of love
Fingers down the throat of love
Fingers down the throat of love
Love! love!
Gun does the waltz around the room
Collecting table and chairs and sofa and so on and so on
Gun wears his best blue suit, now lets take to the sky
well go dancin and eatin it up
Get a bottle and push it on down
And lets just beat it up
Transistor radio plays an overwhelmingly sad and lonely song
Saying where she gone? where she gone?
The fears of gun are the fears of everyone.
Fingers down the throat of love
Fingers down the throat of love
Fingers down the throat of love
Love! love!
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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