Hate to Say (I Told You So)
No, there really isn't anything I don't know that I can't at least make up.
There's a girl who hadn't given away her armsocks or her heart. The orange goo one on my shelf spread into a sticky blob overnight. The point of the heart I drew in the fog on the school bus window started to cry rain. The boys and girl behind me condescended and fought viciously for their cool. When I stood up to leave their infuriatingly four-cournered little world, they complimented fomerly Alison's fedora. Fake young suburban dandies ridicule the weaker of mind and ignore the braver of action.
I've gained deep respect for the talent jelly beans have when it comes to sticking people together. Last weekend I watched two and half movies at listened to six or seven entire albums at least. No wonder I didn't write anything about the Federalist Papers. I'm most interested in the rights that didn't make it in the bill. The only things I've ever written in church are an Elvish tirade and four more lines of the Epic of Riley Dakota.
Five words sung make us stick clover and goldenrod in statues, and where will it stop? We're got sparks seething through our skin and we've got to singe strangers while we can.
These lyrics can be snarled and might lose Alison five bucks for all her trouble. (He didn't bet on the parentheses, dear. But you might buy me a sandwich.)
There's a girl who hadn't given away her armsocks or her heart. The orange goo one on my shelf spread into a sticky blob overnight. The point of the heart I drew in the fog on the school bus window started to cry rain. The boys and girl behind me condescended and fought viciously for their cool. When I stood up to leave their infuriatingly four-cournered little world, they complimented fomerly Alison's fedora. Fake young suburban dandies ridicule the weaker of mind and ignore the braver of action.
I've gained deep respect for the talent jelly beans have when it comes to sticking people together. Last weekend I watched two and half movies at listened to six or seven entire albums at least. No wonder I didn't write anything about the Federalist Papers. I'm most interested in the rights that didn't make it in the bill. The only things I've ever written in church are an Elvish tirade and four more lines of the Epic of Riley Dakota.
Your preacher left when his liberties became too few,Brilliant young beatniks have a flair for the most wildly understated theatrics. Don't let me lose track of this. Next person who sees Jarod, make sure he has my number. I still have the receipt for those armsocks, back when they were still the knee variety. Mmm, knees. I've still got a blue-and-white striped pair. The house ate the pink-and-white pair. What happened to my paper bag and my pirate gold, hmm?
Left when collection plates went empty through every pew.
And you, Riley, you left when the pulpit's new man came -
You up and left, because it's really all the same.
Five words sung make us stick clover and goldenrod in statues, and where will it stop? We're got sparks seething through our skin and we've got to singe strangers while we can.
These lyrics can be snarled and might lose Alison five bucks for all her trouble. (He didn't bet on the parentheses, dear. But you might buy me a sandwich.)
Hate to say I told you so, alright - c'mon
I do believe I told you so...
Do what I please, gonna spread the disease - because I wanna
Gonna call all the shots for the "no"s and the "not"s - because I wanna
D'yeah!
Ask me once, I'll answer twice, 'cause what I know I'll tell - because I wanna
- The Hives, "Hate To Say I Told You So"
posted by Anna at 12:10 AM
2 Comments:
I see Jarod at lunch, I'll let him know (if I remember).
By the way, I am completely obsessed with that mix/"album" (yes, I listened to it all the way through). I love "Trains to Brazil" and "Inside Me" especially.
I love you, that's all there is to it. Let's go to Last Fling this weekend, or possibly ride the train to a strange city and spend the day there.
i told you it was gonna be called that
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