Matthew Good Band - Parable
Voice:
Press the little red button
Press the- it is pressed
The little red, pressed-
It is cold...
You are the one that took me down
We cannot see, we cannot kick the habit
Take your lips and turn ˜em upside down
Make me slowly in the image of your perfection
If not the liar then the apple of your eye
If not today then tomorrow is just goodbye
I covet all these things
The bird it knows the bee stings
And then it dies, well, and then it dies
Tea in a loaded room, in a loaded house, in a loaded town
A finger taps the table, bottled ships they run aground
If only for my life, if only for my life, if only for my life
Know me, know me
If not the liar then the apple of your eye
If not the jury then guilt is through the alibi
I, I covet all these things
The bird it knows the bee stings
And then it dies, well, and then it dies
You are the one that took me down
Between your riding ˜round you've surely known your lost and found
Take your whore lips and, take your whore lips and
Make me slowly in the image of your perfection
If not the savior then the apple of your eye
If not the masterpiece then a massacre in disguise
I, I covet all these things
The bird it knows the bee stings
And then it dies, well, and then it dies
Come on home, yeah come on home
And come on home, yeah come on home
Press the little red button
Press the- it is pressed
The little red, pressed-
It is cold...
You are the one that took me down
We cannot see, we cannot kick the habit
Take your lips and turn ˜em upside down
Make me slowly in the image of your perfection
If not the liar then the apple of your eye
If not today then tomorrow is just goodbye
I covet all these things
The bird it knows the bee stings
And then it dies, well, and then it dies
Tea in a loaded room, in a loaded house, in a loaded town
A finger taps the table, bottled ships they run aground
If only for my life, if only for my life, if only for my life
Know me, know me
If not the liar then the apple of your eye
If not the jury then guilt is through the alibi
I, I covet all these things
The bird it knows the bee stings
And then it dies, well, and then it dies
You are the one that took me down
Between your riding ˜round you've surely known your lost and found
Take your whore lips and, take your whore lips and
Make me slowly in the image of your perfection
If not the savior then the apple of your eye
If not the masterpiece then a massacre in disguise
I, I covet all these things
The bird it knows the bee stings
And then it dies, well, and then it dies
Come on home, yeah come on home
And come on home, yeah come on home
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