That stands for Fuck You Country Music.
How I love Toby Keith AND the Dixie Chicks.
Anyway.
I see you through this window. Come down to me.
I can say the fire died, and there's no blue in your eyes.
Well, the fire's still burning, but I'm not sure of your eyes.
You gasped for breath, as you said to me,
"If this is all stays the same,
And the red and gold sparks let us know that this isn't real,
Then I don't want to wake up."
Because this coffin is like hitting water, after sailing on water for days.
So this forth of July, will you dance with me?
Summer is here, but your water will kill the heat.
And dynamite will cut a hole through this dirty, black sheet . . . or sky.
It's not as blue as your eyes.
These holidays come to pass,
But they're around more often than this feeling.
Can I hit another cigarette?
The fire is lit, but this outside's not lighted.
And the dynamite is dragging up our backs.
Block this SOS.
No one can find us here, because I want a hit of you.
:/
