Number of Lyrics in Album : 11
By At the Drive-In, they say that thirteen is just a number
a double agent
By At the Drive-In, widows an antique replacement
a briefcase filled with mace
widows six legged
By At the Drive-In, Valmara, Valmara, Valmara,
Flechettes kiss me with the lisp
Of your shrapnel
By At the Drive-In, well it's hit or miss upon the gate walls
are the
By At the Drive-In, sucks me in, taking a ride
and i'm wishing for the
By At the Drive-In, In a small ghost town, there's a little arcade
Where the
By At the Drive-In, this is the accent of the halfhearted land
does it all
By At the Drive-In, cut and paste
were you sitting down
on the beaded impotence of
By At the Drive-In, in the humble stence of nativity
hummed the smell of television
By At the Drive-In, nothing ever changes
except your scenery arrangements
in the affectionate hands of
By At the Drive-In, pet sounds filling pet peeve voids
black and white t.v. with
