Cinco de Mayo. Blow out, denial. It wasn't fun this time, letting you go. What if I never, a bullet forever, held out my hand to you, we wouldn't Have known beautiful flow, absolute measure, I ain't no pleasure hound Bus' out of control, ploughing the road, out on a bender, just Alice falling Down a deepening hole. I'd never been to Rome until you smiled. You're about as old and piled. I used to pray for snow ... Now I just wonder what spell I was under, thinking you thought of me as Something to hold. I'd never been to Rome until you smiled. You're about as old and piled. Cinco de Mayo. Burn-out, Ohio. It wasn't me this time, letting you go.
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