Art critics Songtext
von Rex Laurent

Kissing at the red lights
Venice in December
Told me to get closer
Twist into a bender

Told me I′m a big star
Walking to your tesla
You turn up the bass
We're dancing to your temper

Take me downtown
Playing art critics on a Friday night
I have this dream sometimes
I can′t find you in your house
So I'm doing backstrokes in your mind

Cause your name is a love song
Every day I hum to
Moving to a new time
I wanted to run to


Falling telephone polls
Waiting for my uber
Wanted to be on top
Won't be seen a loser

Wish that I could
Wish that I could, fuck
Wish that I could fuck the evil out of you

You live in technicolor, you′re on my TV
Wanna be your lover I can make u sweet
I can′t breathe cuz your hands on me
Put it to a beat, baby blame it on me

Love u even harder knowing I won't stay
Staring at the sun, thinking not today
Tried to play the angel, tried to play the freak
Put it to a beat, baby blame it on me

Walking with my bra strap
Hanging out my handbag
Just being myself but
I know that u hate that

You said to be decent
Who are you, my uncle?
Reading Ayn Rand
Blood drying on your knuckles


You look so sweet so sad
Headcase, have patience
Bet your next girlfriend wouldn′t even entertain it
Like I did
Oh why I did?

You live in technicolor, you're on my TV
Wanna be your lover I can make u sweet
I can′t breathe cuz your hands on me
Put it to a beat, baby blame it on me

Love u even harder knowing I won't stay
Staring at the sun, thinking not today
Tried to play the angel, Tried to play the freak
Put it to a beat, baby blame it on me

I′m walking over the line
I put your cap on my head
Barely get the skirt of my thighs
Since I met you I think of killing myself half of the time
I told the rooms that you're a player but I just made you cry

You live in technicolor, you're on my TV
Wanna be your lover I can make u sweet
I can′t breathe cuz your hands on me
Put it to a beat, baby blame it on me

Love u even harder knowing I won′t stay
Staring at the sun, thinking not today
Tried to play the angel, Tried to play the freak
Put it to a beat, baby blame it on me

Take me downtown
Playing art critics on a Friday night
I have this dream sometimes
I can't find you in your house
So I′m doing backstrokes in your mind
Tried to play the angel
Tried to play the freak
Tried to play the angel
Tried to play the freak
Head out the window, wanted you to see me
(Freak)
Jesus was there but you were busy leaving