Cold Son - Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks

At the center where they go on weekdays

It takes hours just to slake that thirst

Heavy heels and a daunting pulse rate

Bad idea for your blistered toes

To my wheel, well you’re getting close

So say adios

The conjecturers reject the rose

Don’t stay high high igh igh igh

On abuse

Sometimes it feels like the worlds’s stuffed with feathers

Table-bottom gum just holding it together

A cold son, I am

A cold son, I am

You can chase it but it won’t come easy

It’s a revery so silverquick

It gets solid when you’re old and hazy

Takes no leverage to make me click

To my wheel, well you’re getting close

The tension grows

Defy conjecture and accept the rose

Don’t stay high high igh igh igh

On abuse

Who was it that said the world is my oyster?

I feel like a nympho stuck in a cloister!

Cold son, I am

A cold son, I am

Faceplant stumble ahead

Victim of your rival pretensions know me

Faceplant stumble ahead

Rival to the bitter pretensions know me

Cold son, I am

A cold son, I am