SLUGLIFE

There's diesel in my petrol generator.

There's no coffee on my grounds.

I'm sleeping in the elevator, dreaming in mellow jazz sounds.

But there's a man with a bag, and I heard he's coming 'round, and that he's got a few answers for me, and that he could help me sleep again.

I heard he tells a sad story that comes up daisies by the end.

I just need a little time.

We're getting there.

I just need a little time.

We're getting there.

I just need a little time.

We're getting there.

I'm shining my boots and slicking my hair.

My spirit has a wretched spleen.

The neighbors see me through the window.

I do my best to keep it clean.

A bin bag, rain, and some tiptoes.

I've heard you've got a dog, and he's been through the throes, and he has a few answers for me, and that he could help me wake again.

I heard he tells a sad story that comes up daisies by the end.

I just need a little time.

We're getting there.

I just need a little time.

We're getting there.

I need a little time.

We're getting there!

I'm shining my boots and slicking my hair.

-Slipping. . . -Just finding my way.

-Slipping. . .

-Just minding my pace.

-Slipping. . . -Just finding my way.

-Slipping. . . -Minding my pace.

Slipping. . . Slipping. . .

Finding my way.

Slipping. . . Slipping. . .

-Minding my pace. -Slipping. . .

Slipping. . .

Finding my pace!

Slipping. . .