Lyrics
Gave my love to two thousand yesterdays
Nothing is wrong, I am always a little late
Probably will, probably won't
Get this disease cut out my throat
All of a sudden, you come my way
Baby believer
I won't be saved
By morning after
Struggling my name
Slave turned to master
Edge of my bed, benzedrine telephone
Struggling to speak, I am sicker than sickest dog
Falling faster than a liar's grin
We need to be saved from the shit we're in
I believe in you, I have found
The perfect way to bring me down
I won't be saved
By morning after
Struggling my name
Slave turned to master
Slave turned to master