歌词
You must have made several unhappy friends
When you took all their pictures and secretly penned
Mustachio on the relative they know
Who was buried in the ground
You must have been lonely, lonelier than them
It justifies the frequency of your offense
You know I know we both we both we know
We've learned nothing at all
After awhile patterns turn into style
After awhile pictures were not enough
So you took to a shovel and dug one of them up
The chill in the air, all the paint everywhere
Never enough to cover him up
The image is stuck
The image is stuck
For what it is worth
Call it your artwork