Bluebell Songtext

Flys through the air with the greatest disease
Takes little pills and calls them trapeze
I know you're right
Everything you do is right
Everything I do is true
Bluebell to hell
Lo and behold a girl with a goal
Looks so old she's made out of gold
I want to live in the smallest corner of the densest mind of the
fuckmost room and sing the stars they swing from the chandelier strings.