Round up, holler girl. Ah, I will sing.
Title TK, if I don't black out.


Dumb made for $#&@ing and missing from the party.
That boy spun out.
Hold what you've got.


While Xenia twists up the sky,
Akron flakes out.

Grindcore, little fury,
I feel hot tire.
Why is it floating in my beer?

Hold what you've got.

My big drum on your big face,

The one-eyed jazz as hickeys fade.

Round up, holler girl..

We'll all need bigger uniforms.
It's been a few days
And I know I will have spun out.

Hold what you've got.

My big drum on your big face,

The one-eyed jazz as hickeys fade.
Grindcore, little fury, if I don't black out.


Hold what you've got.