Strange facination, end of the day
Roots are tied and uninspired
Two thousand records won't play anymore
Always had the time
Tape, VCR, news, and old ripped picks

There's too much red in the room
There's too much red
There's too much red in the room

You seem to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your Matchbox cars and plastic guitars
And the twelve bar blues brigade

You seems to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your pocket was torn from a fist from a corpse
And the best one's got away

The basement's got a smell but I like it that way
Obsessive, compulsive, relentlessly frosted
TV shows with no conversation
Seem to make the time creep slow
I'm waiting around from place to place to place
There's too much red in the room
There's too much red
There's too much red in the room

You seem to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Matchbox cars and plasitc guitars
And the twelve bar blues brigade

It seems to always come on over
Just a little too soon
Your pocket was torn from a fist from a corpse
And the best one's got away