Mistress of the mind Take me where the air is clean Ignorance is kind Emerald and evergreen 30 days September Year of miracle and grief Through the haze
(Joseph) I dreamed that in the fields one day The corn gave me a sign Your eleven sheaves of corn All turned and bowed to mine I dreamed I saw eleven
I've been unfair, I have cheated you all of my life. Now I'm left here without a prayer, Ever thought every word is a lie? I'm so sorry, I know I fail
I was born in Macon Georgia They kept my daddy over in Macon jail He told me if you keep your hands clean You won't hear them bloodhounds on your trail
Humiliation Street Where all the danger kids meet The dagger dudes and the dirt done cheap That's what I say Humiliation Row Where all the hollow kids
Do you remember all of those pledges That we pledged in the passionate night Ah, they're soiled now, they're torn at the edges Like moths on a still yellow
(Garoto - Vinicius de Moraes - Chico Buarque, 1969) Tem certos dias Em que eu penso em minha gente E sinto assim Todo o meu peito se apertar Porque parece
Underneath this surface exists A man with no strength to resist Lips are sealed unable to speak If you don't take these chains off me I hesitate too
What is it like to choke On every word you said? What is it like to shit On everything you had? Lowest of the low I'll never fucking be like you Lowest
And by the throat, you shoved your pride, this forced disdain, writhes inside my mind, All dreams will creep their petty pace, your wings are singed
Oh, Lord, it's hard to be humble When you're perfect in every way I can't wait to look in the mirror 'Cause I get better lookin' each day To know me
You're dead you fuck You're dead at my feet My revenge is almost complete Your eyes staring Staring into space Seeing nothing, no heartbeat Limp cadaver
I thought you wanted to be my friend. I thought you wanted to be my... When-I see your face for real, I stop-and then I clear my through When I-try
Do you remember all of those pledges That we pledged in the passionate night Ah they're soiled now, they're torn at the edges Like moths on a still yellow
Wild confusion. seperation, pain. Dead or alive - they'll go insane. They're the hunters Their aim is to kill Why're we here, why? Surely, you'll die
I can see it in the way you walk So fine, so fine I can see it in the way you smile Divine, divine And it's making me humble It's making me shy And she
Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted, See him dying on the tree Tis' the Christ by man rejected, yes my soul tis heat is He Tis the long Expected prophet
I'd be happy to humiliate myself I'd be happy to bend over just to be somebody Be somebody Be somebody I'd do anything for ten seconds of fame I'd be
