I quit my shoes for a big boat baby Now I have my hands on a cold press rail I cut my shape out of plastic and nylon Now I have a cage made of rosewood and steel I have a knife for a cuff that can capture And I have a cuff for a collar that hails I have my states you have words you attain So I drank my thimble and ordered a pail
I let my feet fall from four forty stories Onto a platform of solder and steam I have a brow that was born to betray me And I may be gone but not quite to bury I have my states you have words to attain More than the crumbs I bled for this evening I saw true life just lie dead before me And I called it god and know I'm its sonTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
