Pistols

Top down, not like we miss you*
You little boys fall on your pistols
Annie does your boyfriend know?
You seek a habit and a small feeling of danger
Slow glide down through the canyon
Tearing the layers off with abandon
These lonely brothers on the radio
If that’s a DJ I’m the pilgrim Mona Lisa
Told her uphill, welcome to the show
Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in
Love stinks, finance the issue
You be the banks and I’ll be the missiles
Annie this is how things go
You lose your suburbs and my coastlines wanna meet you
Mid phrase, hostage the authors
Poor Joe McCarthy is searching for lovers
Let’s believe our parents' tomes
This generation’s missing (an) awful lot of bother
Total repeal, welcome to the show
Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in