Apple Of My Irony

Weeds, the apple of my irony

In time you open up your wounds

So you've got something to cauterize weeds

I'm growing lines around my eyes

They're called smile lines

Is that how I got mine?

We can grow out of our shoes

There's no time so there's no time

To lose on this fireball

We're riding on we're firing on

Weeds, so many bars and resting haunts

So many here so many gone

If walls could talk they'd say we can grow out of our shoes there's no time

So there's no time to lose on this fireball we're riding on