Lovely city, when do you laugh? Stony people, what do you have? Well, you ride around on a bright shiny cloud And you think that you've found true happiness
Well here comes my wife And that's the story of my life She haunts me Though she don't want me She follows badly in disguise But it's not hard to recognize
Sadie?s Song Pretty boy, my faithless fallen angel Took me completely in his arms In his eyes, I saw Eden?s garden But the serpent lay hidden in his
ten thousand horses, sable island, endless summer oh my god i'm hot to steal, beside myself and friendless number i ain't got no culture, nothing, dirty
Take a walk around midnight in the city Young blood is hiding there somewhere If you're looking for something to do There's always something happening
In the days when children sung In the heart claim shattered son You were right in telling them Where they were beneath the snow Space call God right
Dein rotes Nachthemd flattert im Wind , vom Garten aus kann ich dich sehn Du bist so jung und rein mein Kind , wie lange wirst du widerstehn Komm
Translation: Keinohrhasen. Young poets and thinkers - Sorcerer.
Translation: Grandpa Sex. Sexy song (I'm standing on Young Girls).
Translation: Soca Boys. Ruth's Song.
"Alice, where's your tongue?" she said, "look in the encyclopedia's ceaseless chatter." "Alice, where's your hair?" she said, "look in the sharp of a
let's sling our rain slicks over February's fantastic antlers sprouting from the foreheads of world famous romancers. the winter's looming like a bloodthirsty
those decadent war swans, with faces half drawn, slinging blood soaked carols at the slave ship sun. huge gold ak-47! huge gold ak-47! c'mon, its 4am
the giant swan's got ghosts in his eyes. his guts are stuffed with polaroids, and they're all humiliating. and when the wine's drunk and the wild cabaret
here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. here comes the man with a laser-guided rocket. here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can
twilight's million battered lips sleep in a house of fractured smiles. young love's clumsy fingertips are gonna find out for themselves. the birds keep
oh, team machine! i'm a pound of flesh in a drum machine's dream. we watch crabs and lobsters eat a dead cops throat and stuff our mouths with gutted
those chariots, racing your run, autographing flooded slums. those chariots, they never sleep, chased you down a lilac's lung. rat rider! rat rider!
