it again to 'em Let me leave the station for your blood affiliation I say heavy metaphors, flow so overweight I could rap around these other youngin's like a cobra snake
Show, how good you are You're swelling out in the wrong direction You've got the bug, superstar you've been bitten Your trumpet's blowing for far too long Playing the snake
Rousseau walks on trumpet paths Safaris to the heart of all that jazz Through I bars and girders, through wires and pipes The mathematic circuits of the
the trumpet call When we're all unsaved, swing Like a wrecking ball Like the heart of god What a mystery Filled with the wedding feast For the snakes
be your man I will not be around when you call Oh daddy I`ll be daddy's little girl Black water The warm summer rain Washes your tears in to the big snake
they third minds open Write a page that'll engage war and encite fights Be on the look for the bright lights and north winds The trumpets be the mics
Relic illadelphia, right words of power Him who was holy, who holds the key That opens, no one can seal it Sick ven-a-nicious, sound of seven trumpets
The affection of your glove The prison of your company The snake oil of your love The heights to which you drag me Just to hurl your scorn The trumpets
'll walk inside Hand in hand, gland in gland With a spoonful of miracle He's the guaranteed eternal sanctuary We will rock you, rock you little snake
The silence breaks the ground A shadow is riding the horizon An arcane man arrives to town Remorseless and condemned Tasted the snake's poison Broken
Blow your trumpets, let the feast begin Sing for us minstrels tonight Let the coronation shimmer and shine In golden sun so bright In the velvet mantle
snake Devastating earthquake Heaven is still, raining fire at will Heaven is still, raining fire at will [III. The Seven Trumpets] Seven trumpets Seven angles Seven trumpets
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals) Ike willis (rhythm guitar, vocals) Ray white (rhythm guitar, vocals) Bob harris (boy soprano, trumpet) Steve vai (guitar
ya ears with the Pennister's scandal I gift wrap the sawed-off, the DeeJay pump it March to the sounds of Armstrong's trumpet Great things satisfied
spits your eclipse, engulfed darkness The dragon is bound in a bottom less pit Now fear the doom of death, from the tune of ruffiah's trumpet The return
good you are. You're swelling out in the wrong direction, you've got the bug, superstar you've been bitten, Your trumpet's blowing for far too long, playing the snake
