Rusty - Hein Cooper, Morgane Imbeaud, Achtabahn

Vacantly stood with these glazed eyes looking down,

Blood lines, bubble in my cup think I’m fizzing out,

Well I don’t hear the sound as I’m reaching out to you,

I’m not looking for the fix that I get used to.

I get a little,

I get a little,

I get a little,

Rusty.

So won’t you spare me some time,

Doesn’t it destroy your soul like it does mine?

When nothing that we do is fine,

Every high we get the lie that says the waters turned into wine.

Well I’ve been twisting out, I’ve been twisting out the screws,

And I’m not looking for the fix that I got used to,

I get a little,

I get a little,

I get a little,

Rusty.

I get a little,

I get a little,

I get a little,

Rusty.

Chasing rabbits down holes as the Church cheer watching me,

The yellow brick road to know where I know as there I go,

Seen the road, seen the road, seen the road lead to nowhere before.

I get a little,

I get a little,

I get a little,

Rusty.

I get a little,

I get a little,

I get a little,

Rusty.