Lletres:
Cuban Cigar Crisis

Sleeping in a pool of cianti Council with the ghost beside me Ambulances chant to uselesness Singing with the emergency broadcast system Thank You Governer

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Lletres

Cuban Cigar Crisis. Sourpuss. Silver Goons. Crisi de cigars cubans. Persona poc afable. Plata Goons.
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Words, words, words they say, and to your dismay, it says they know jack shit. They are intellectual thoroughbreds and little less. See your shoulder

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Lletres

Cuban Cigar Crisis. Sourpuss. Love Between The Sheets. Crisi de cigars cubans. Persona poc afable. Amor Entre Les Fulles.
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Mister Mistoffelees tie dangles Kissed her isosceles triangles Slap some Burt Bacharach on me Teach me about your anatomy Love between the sheets Show

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Lletres

Cuban Cigar Crisis. Sourpuss. Titled. Crisi de cigars cubans. Persona poc afable. Sota el títol.
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This confessional is no longer therapeutic It holds no solace for me anymore I can't drive anywhere without you ghost riding shotgun you are never

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Lletres

Cuban Cigar Crisis. Sourpuss. Outside. Crisi de cigars cubans. Persona poc afable. Fora.
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I'm tired of your rhetoric Do you want me to die in here I'm inside a tall building Running from room to room familiar faces ===CHORUS=== Just let

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