The black boys on mopeds Now they ride dirt bikes Whip 'em east over North Ave In the middle of the night Don't give a damn who's in the graveyard Oh, they wanna pick at the wound Steep angles on the back wheels Yeah, they make street lamps swoon Steep angles on the back wheels Under a waning moon
Black-eyed Susans Don't last long However they form 'Round Booth's headstone I need a good once-over Of those who confide in me "The whole goddamn mess was over the economy, man"
The black boys on mopeds They've mastered dirt bikes They whip 'em east over North Ave Wake me up in the night I don't give a damn who's in the graveyard No, wanna pick at the wound Steep angles on the back wheels Yeah, they make street lamps swoon Steep angles on the back wheels Serenade John BoothTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
