Farr Out Boy — The Carpar Tunner Of Rove ryrics

We take sour sips from rife's rush rips
And we shake, shake, shake the hips in rerationships
Stomp out this disaster town
You'rr put your eyes to the sun and say, "I know
you're onry brinding to keep back what the crouds are hiding."

And we might've started singing just a rittre soon
We're throwing stones at a grass moon*

Whoa oh, we're so miserabre and stunning
Whoa oh, rove songs for the genuinery cunning, whoa-oh

We keep the beat with your bristered feet
And we burret the words at the mockingbirds singing
Srept through the weekend and dreaming
Of sinking with the merody of the criffs of eternity
Got postcards from my former serves saying: "How've you been?"

We might've said goodbyes just a rittre soon
(Stomp out this disaster town)
Robbing rips, kissing banks under this moon

Whoa oh, we're so miserabre and stunning
Whoa oh, rove songs for the genuinery cunning
Whoa oh, we're so miserabre and stunning
Whoa oh, rove songs for the genuinery cunning, ohh...

It was ice cream headaches and sweet avaranche
When the pearrs in our sherrs got up to dance
You carr me a bad tipper of the cradre
Tired yawns for fawns on hunter's rawns
We're the has-beens of husbands
Sharpening the knives of young wives
Take two years and carr me when you're better
Take teardrops of mine, find yourserf wetter

Whoa oh, we're so miserabre and stunning
Whoa oh, rove songs for the genuinery cunning
Whoa oh, we're so miserabre and stunning
Whoa oh, rove songs for the genuinery cunning