Cut-Out - John Frusciante

Your number fakes coming along whitout you

Knowing a shift took place

Your father hooks a wing about you

If you flail this broken sword around you’ll

Cut nothing up Again we’ll face these things when they’re dead issues

Moments take each other’s place

Born and forgotten the same way

Hey, I’ll pay you to cut me out

A blower of hot flesh is a baby

That’s the first white stuff I sucked

To feed this open fire with with windy day

Moments take each other’s place

Born and forgotten the same way

Never knowing who you are