Mota

Mota



Everyday, well it's the same

That bong that's on the table starts to call my name

I take a hit and zone out again

I'll be paranoid and hungry by a quarter to ten



Watching reruns on my TV

I'm laughing off my ass at Three's Company

I don't know if I'm understood

Buy hearing Jimmy Buffett never sounded so good



Your memory's gone and so is your life, your life

Mota Boy, but losing out just never felt so right

Your enemy's you and so is your life, your life

Mota Boy, but losing out might feel okay all night



Mota



I'm driving down to the barrio

Going 15 miles an hour 'cause I'm already stoned

Give the guy a twenty and wait in the car

He tosses me a baggie then he runs real far



I take a hit but it smells like a clove

Oh, fuck I got a baggie of oregano

This ritual is destroying me

But I guess it could be worse, it could be methedrine



Mota, your memory's gone and so is your life, your life

Mota Boy, but losing out just never felt so right

Your enemy's you and your couch is your life, your Life

Mota Boy, but losing out might take, losing out might take you all night



Mota



Your memory's gone and so is your life, your life

Mota Boy, but losing out just never felt so right

Your enemy's you and this is your life, your life

Mota Boy, but losing out might feel okay all night

All night, yeah, losing out might feel okay all night