Broken cones I hide and hang my eyes.
I make my last move in the violent skies.
I'm horny, hungry, hopeful for your hand.
A plastic bag's no suitcase for my mind.
Harbour of Lame Ducks, tiny little group of us.
Turning your hearts to mush.
I was happy when i scored straight off the backboard into the bin that day.
Take a moment, take two days, take years.
The difference is your virtue 'mongst your peers.
So happy, healthy, humble as we speak.
The streets are filled with ordinary peeps.
But the
Harbour of Lame Ducks, tiny little group of us.
Turning your hearts to mush.
I was happy when i scored straight off the backboard into the bin that day.
(Guitar Solo)
Writer(s): Samuel David Cromack
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