Cold Son

At the center where they go on weekdays
It takes hours just to slake that thirst
Heavy heels and a daunting pulse rate
Bad idea for your blistered toes
To my wheel, well you’re getting close
So say adios
The conjecturers reject the rose
Don’t stay high high igh igh igh
On abuse
Sometimes it feels like the worlds’s stuffed with feathers
Table-bottom gum just holding it together
A cold son, I am
A cold son, I am
You can chase it but it won’t come easy
It’s a revery so silverquick
It gets solid when you’re old and hazy
Takes no leverage to make me click
To my wheel, well you’re getting close
The tension grows
Defy conjecture and accept the rose
Don’t stay high high igh igh igh
On abuse
Who was it that said the world is my oyster?
I feel like a nympho stuck in a cloister!
Cold son, I am
A cold son, I am
Faceplant stumble ahead
Victim of your rival pretensions know me
Faceplant stumble ahead
Rival to the bitter pretensions know me
Cold son, I am
A cold son, I am