Texty:
Luke Doucet Blood S Too Rich

(that's nice). But not that but about your hell. Because my blood's too rich for subway cars, and I'm too poor for a cab. I'm too old for the girl I

away. Rocks star, give your drugs to skinny girls. Too high to get it up. No one comes today. It's time now, a thousand pounds of cargo. It's what I

little white man, he said he played guitar. His wife's in jail and that broke my heart (the stories you hear when you'd rather be alone). Roller coastin's

won). Out of money, low on on inspiration. Days get hard. Destination is the tie that binds us, it's in our cards. Check the forecast, biblical flood rains. It's

An early mid-life crisis looms, and for me to survive it I'll find myself a motorbike, and learn how to ride it. Stop out where the grass is dry and

Do not cry old man, it's not what today is for. Two dead rocks starts in one night is more than anybody's gonna cry for. Bottoms up stranger, let's tip

the land, I know what kind of flowers make you sway. Baby, please don't leave me flapping in the breeze. My body's old, my young man's cold and tired