Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
Kristin Hersh
That fine fever brought us here
Lambasted eyeballs
When we kiss the dirt
The orchids laugh
What a gut pageant
We could play for hours
What a gut pageant
Meat for the flowers
You break out of a paper bag
And wake up on the street
Just kidding
You don't have to go
I asked him why the grass is blue
And stray boys don't go home
Why 4 a.m.'s so screwy
He says "Sleep through it"
What a gut pageant
We could play for hours
What a gut pageant
Meat for the flowers
Not too special, not too strange
Just the way I like 'em
You find an empty promise
And stick by it
Not too pretty, not too sweet
Just the way I like you
When you kiss the dirt
The orchids laugh
Harder than me
Tell me another one
I could sit for hours
When anyone laughs
I know I'm a coward
What a gut pageant
We could play for hours
When we kiss the dirt
The orchids laugh
Harder than me