Beck - Readymade
An open road where I can breathe
Where the lowest low is calling to me
I can pull myself back up back down
Stuck together like a readymade
And nobody knows where we been
Cancelled rations are running thin
Watches tick out of tune
Falling apart like a readymade
My bags are waiting
In the next life
Rubbish piles fresh and plain
Empty boxes in a pawn shop brain
License plates stowaway
Standing in line like a readymade
And my bags are waiting
In the next life
An open road where I can breate
Where the lowest low is calling to me
I can pull myself back up back down
Stuck together like a readymade
And my bags are waiting
In the next life