Touchy Mob - Atlantic Back Lyrics

i'll fix us a drink go down to the shore
break into the paid beach timely at midnight
residual light it's easy to see
that three hours west the sun is still setting
right about now setting foot into a
creepy radio station for movies of zombies
oh it got blurry is it fog is it clouds
that surrounds me i hurry taking photos to swagger
saw a hole in the atlantic back
where local cows go to expire and it says DJ
catchy i thought it would be playing that eerie tune
catchy i thought it would be
playing that old song on the new horns for you
if illusion's the mother of art i wanna be artist
nature is droughty i'm walking barefoot on it's carcass
may troubly disguise fail to hide that you're just a goddess
it would be nice to know what they imbibe on the roof
palaeographical bliss and the sound of the parties
breeding my envy and hugging my feet in the ground
i might go ahead and perspire as much as i manage
revolting against any weather stopped making sense
how be ablazed if my blood is already cooking
the skin is so fine so fine i can see
the rose flesh shimmer right through it
catchy i thought it would be
playing that old song on the new horns for you
maybe my blood's boiling down
baby i'll keep you fevering
my nervous lips are a promise
to keep you in heat
OK
let's go on vacation come hop on my hunchback
as a prevision of safety i'll have you for lunch
it's perfect exactly 37° inside me
if every place grows bellicose you can still live inside me

i'll fix us a drink go down to the shore
break into the paid beach timely at midnight
residual light it's easy to see
that three hours west the sun is still setting
right about now setting foot into a
creepy radio station for movies of zombies
oh it got blurry is it fog is it clouds
that surrounds me i hurry taking photos to swagger
saw a hole in the atlantic back
where local cows go to expire and it says DJ
catchy i thought it would be playing that eerie tune
catchy i thought it would be
playing that old song on the new horns for you
if illusion's the mother of art i wanna be artist
nature is droughty i'm walking barefoot on it's carcass
may troubly disguise fail to hide that you're just a goddess
it would be nice to know what they imbibe on the roof
palaeographical bliss and the sound of the parties
breeding my envy and hugging my feet in the ground
i might go ahead and perspire as much as i manage
revolting against any weather stopped making sense
how be ablazed if my blood is already cooking
the skin is so fine so fine i can see
the rose flesh shimmer right through it
catchy i thought it would be
playing that old song on the new horns for you
maybe my blood's boiling down
baby i'll keep you fevering
my nervous lips are a promise
to keep you in heat
OK
let's go on vacation come hop on my hunchback
as a prevision of safety i'll have you for lunch
it's perfect exactly 37° inside me
if every place grows bellicose you can still live inside me