Paroles: Swingin' Utters. Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, And Bones. My Closed Mind.

don't want to write
don't want to talk
don't want to fight
don't want to fuck
don't want to clear my mind
'cause i'm a non-believer, babe
i won't speak those lines
i'm not innocent or naive

words on long distance lines
would ease your mind
and clear my name from any crimes
maybe a taste of beer and wine
would by some time
(or would i just forget my lines?)

don't want to hate
don't want to weep
don't want to wait
don't want to walk away
don't want to give it up
'cause i'm not the quiting kind
and i'm a cynic and a clod
and i don't see the good in all your gods

i won't open up at all today
sing songs so happy and full of praise
i've shut my mind, stowed it away
i won't open up at all today