Texty: Pavement. Spit On A Stranger. Porpoise And The Hand Grenade.
Harness you hopes on just one person
because you know a harness was only made for one
Don't telegraph your passes you'll end up with mollasses
Cauterize with syrup in syrup and mollasses
And I'm checking out the asses the assets that attract us to anything that moves we're deep inside the grooves
And it's time to shake your ashes 'cos someones gonna cash it we're plot it turns again the reference starts at ten
Show me a word that rhymes with Pavement and I will kill your parents and roast them on a spit
An' a dontcha try to etch it or permanently sketch it or you're gonna catch a bad, bad cold
And the freaks have stolen the White House
I moved into a lighthouse its on a scenic quay its oh so far away
Far away from the beginnin' the shroud is made of linen the yearling took your purse
The goth kid has a hearse
Heart breakin' earth quakin Kiwis they are home bakin' minds wide open true
Leisure a leisure suit is nothing its nothing to be proud of in this late century and I'm asking you to hold me just like a morning paper pinched between your pointer your index and your thumb
Its a semi-automatic believers are ecstatic you see the way they cling the cold metallic sting
because you know a harness was only made for one
Don't telegraph your passes you'll end up with mollasses
Cauterize with syrup in syrup and mollasses
And I'm checking out the asses the assets that attract us to anything that moves we're deep inside the grooves
And it's time to shake your ashes 'cos someones gonna cash it we're plot it turns again the reference starts at ten
Show me a word that rhymes with Pavement and I will kill your parents and roast them on a spit
An' a dontcha try to etch it or permanently sketch it or you're gonna catch a bad, bad cold
And the freaks have stolen the White House
I moved into a lighthouse its on a scenic quay its oh so far away
Far away from the beginnin' the shroud is made of linen the yearling took your purse
The goth kid has a hearse
Heart breakin' earth quakin Kiwis they are home bakin' minds wide open true
Leisure a leisure suit is nothing its nothing to be proud of in this late century and I'm asking you to hold me just like a morning paper pinched between your pointer your index and your thumb
Its a semi-automatic believers are ecstatic you see the way they cling the cold metallic sting
Pavement
Spit On A Stranger
Ostatní interpreti