Veins

Written by Douglas Firestein

The smell of hot rubber
Fills the station air
I emerge from the garage
Running a pick through my hair

I have been expecting you
The road it is long
But you reached your destination
Now the time has come

The news proclaims
A shortage of gas
But not the kind
I’m about to give

Pumpin’ gas!
(Pumpin gas…)
Pumpin’ pain!
(Pumpin gas…)
Pumpin’ petrol
(Petrol…)

IN YOUR VEINS!

I’ll call your old lover
Say that you still care
Tell her everything she wants
Then invite her over here

It’s an awful thing to do
Dragging her along
When she sees it was a joke
She’ll turn your engine off

The news proclaims
A shortage of gas
But not the kind
I’m about to give

Pumpin’ gas!
(Pumpin gas…)
Pumpin’ pain!
(Pumpin gas…)
Pumpin’ petrol
(Petrol…)

IN YOUR VEINS!

Ooh, ooh, ooh
Smells like home cooking
Ooh, ooh, ooh
This old pump’s still working

The news proclaims
A shortage of gas
But not the kind
I’m about to give

Pumpin’ gas!
(Pumpin gas…)
Pumpin’ pain!
(Pumpin gas…)
Pumpin’ petrol
(Petrol…)

IN YOUR VEINS!

(Veins, veins)
In your veins
(Veins, veins)
In your veins
I SAID
(Veins, veins)
In your veins
(Veins, veins)
In your veins