Excuse me mam, can i please have a hand
It appears that my sanity, is measured in grams
Well what do you, expect me to do
It's just that my whole life i thought that you knew
I promise my situation is just as dire
Look at my brain, damn thing's expired
Well nonsense just take a deep breath in
My consolations are a truthless sin
Portions of me
They're all spread out
Please be quiet
I'm driving now
Fill me in, whats gone down
Who's psychotic, who almost drowned?
I love to whisper I love that sound
A private heartbreak can we pass it around
Self prognosis outside the mind
I am jaded, we're one of a kind
Portions of me
They're all spread out
Please be quiet
I'm driving now
Sick and tired
Old and expired
Beyond repair
She dyes her hair
Woozy psych-surf from Jerusalem, The Turbans combine snakelike guitar lines with jittery percussion and pinwheel-eyed melodies. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 25, 2018