Texty: Wilco. Misunderstood.
When you're back in your old neighborhood
The cigarettes taste so good
But you're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
There's something there that you can't find
You look honest when you're telling a lie
You hurt her but you don't know why
You love her but you don't know why
Short on long term goals
There's a party there that we ought to go to
If you still love rock and roll
You still love rock and roll?
It's only a quarter to three
Reflecting off of your CD
You're looking at a picture of me
You're staring at a picture of me
Take the guitar player for a ride
'Cause he ain't never been satisfied
He thinks he owes some kind of debt
It'll be years before he gets over it
There's a fortune inside your head
When all you touch turns to lead
You think you might just crawl back in bed
With the fortune inside your head
I know you're just a mama's boy
You're positively unemployed
So misunderstood
So misunderstood
I know you've got a god-shaped hole
You're bleeding out your heart full of soul
You're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
I'd like to thank you all for nothing
I'd like to thank you all for nothing at all
I'd like to thank you all for nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing at all
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing at all
The cigarettes taste so good
But you're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
There's something there that you can't find
You look honest when you're telling a lie
You hurt her but you don't know why
You love her but you don't know why
Short on long term goals
There's a party there that we ought to go to
If you still love rock and roll
You still love rock and roll?
It's only a quarter to three
Reflecting off of your CD
You're looking at a picture of me
You're staring at a picture of me
Take the guitar player for a ride
'Cause he ain't never been satisfied
He thinks he owes some kind of debt
It'll be years before he gets over it
There's a fortune inside your head
When all you touch turns to lead
You think you might just crawl back in bed
With the fortune inside your head
I know you're just a mama's boy
You're positively unemployed
So misunderstood
So misunderstood
I know you've got a god-shaped hole
You're bleeding out your heart full of soul
You're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
You're so misunderstood
I'd like to thank you all for nothing
I'd like to thank you all for nothing at all
I'd like to thank you all for nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing at all
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing at all
Wilco
Wilco
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