LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeHotel Illness
Oh good heavens, baby where's my medicine?I must have left it outside with my etiquetteThe undertaker's rule of thumbIt's hard to talk with a novocain tongueThis room smells like hotel illnessThe scars I hide are now your businessI can't seem to make hair nor hide of thisNo baby love is not a punishmentHypnotize by your rotten behaviorThis week's fashion is last year's flavorI got a head full of sermonsAnd a mouth full of spidersThe politics of the world's greatest liarSo tell me baby is it true all those thingsthat they say about you?
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