If memory serves us, then who owns the master How do we know who's projecting this reel And is it like gruel or like quick drying plaster Tell me how long til the paint starts to peel
Is it like Pyramus or Apollo or an archer we don't know Though history repeats itself, and time's a crooked bow Come on tell us something we don't know
Now who's the best boy and the casting director And the editor splicing your face from the scene It's all in the hands of a lazy projector That forgetting, embellishing, lying machine That forgetting, embellishing, lying machine
They say all good things must come to an end Everyday the night must fall How it all came to this, I simply can't recall Too many cooks in the kitchen How the mighty must fall
But I can't see the sense in us breaking up at all I can't see the sense in us breaking up at all I can't see the sense in us breaking up at all Breaking up at all
And it's all in the hands of a lazy projector That forgetting, embellishing, lying machineTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
