a walk. Summer in London, the weather man said, Waking up late, got to get out of bed. So much to do, got to go everywhere A day on the town and not
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for a walk. Summer in London, the weather man said, Waking up late, got to get out of bed. So much to do, got to go everywhere A day on the town and
for a walk Summer in London the weather man said Waking up late, got to get out of bed So much to do, got to go everywhere A day on the town and not
In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines Sprung from
, I won't leave a trace Of yearning for some room to breathe Still going on, still going on, going on The show must go on The show must go on The show
on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight In an everlasting kiss The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance
on a jet surfboard Shooting people with a laser gun, four points scored I'm outlawed like al Qaeda I bomb like jetfighters I VILLY ON ME A SLEAZE
the sky on a jet surfboard Shooting people with a laser gun, four points scored I'm outlawed like al Qaeda I bomb like jetfighters I VILLY ON ME A
up and then a brought em a bullet from a gun I'm a long laster Now you ask for explanation my last word A-L-U-C-A-R-D read it backwards [Chorus x2:
and go pistachio They'll never steal my dreams like Leo DiCaprio So, before the madness grow I speak what they have to know In a town that was small,
on the need for prayer When the bomb gonna drop x-rays Everybody gonna fade it's the killin' day Never will another try to play on another killin' day
Meanwhile, crankin' 'bout the knob up on my Speakerboxxx So here we are, get the fuck on the ground Is just a phase you might hear strolling through the A-Town
a car, I'm goin' for a drive Feel the whistle blowin' breeze gone flying by Mirror's on the moon, echo in the sun See just a touch of madness in my eye
on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you wendy on the streets tonight In an everlasting kiss The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance
night propels Walter Mitty It's about time He can read the signs A night on the town In the city Monday is a work day Tuesday's much the same Wednesday
everywhere His documented bruises, film, a folder and a file She's a second grade self portrait, drawn without a smile And every town has a litter with
waiting in silence Just biding his time And happened on a young lady Up from the depths of despair She spoke with a twist on her tongue And a marvelous
