Letras: Mountain Goats, The. Going To Hungary.

we touched down in budapest

headed straight for the motel rooom and got undressed

we had not slept for three or four days

and we slipped underneath the covers

it felt ok



about twelve hours later the sun came out to play

i felt it on my eyelids

i pushed your hair away



you put on your old gloves

you put on your new shirt

i put on my cowboy boots

i slipped on my yellow shirt

we headed out, sweat drying on our bodies

and i got all sentimental

we were heading straight to hell

in a lincoln continental