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Southern Comfort - The Orwells



     
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Southern Comfort Lyrics


Drink by drink, I think, I'm thinkin'
Why not train with me this week-end?
And I can't walk and I can't dance
Give me a smile and then take off your pantsSaw her eyes in the rear-view mirror
Girls in the back, trunks full of beer
Eyes on the prize, eyes on the prize
I'm not that open, I'm gettin' really wiseCoke and rum, can I taste your tongue?
Won't stop sipping till we're both numb
Lose that dirt and the short black skirt
Why the lip gloss and the tight white shirt?Hand down my pants, hands on my grass
Got to the bottom of the bottom, but I still can't dance
Like this brother with the hand full of ass
Bad ass shades and a bag full of grass

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For The Orwells, Remember When will be an introduction of sorts—the 12-track rat-race shows the band’s repertoire of pranging riffs and sneering, snot-nosed vocals. The tracks are a walloping war-cry from a generation that up until this point has only offered bubblegum pop—the animus of The Orwells. It’s quite clear early on the in listening to the LP that the band is well aware of the past, the homage rings through the record, using the ghost of punk’s past as their musical sprit guide.

Read more about The Orwells on Last.fm.


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The Orwells