Beside the noisy streets in hell the science meets the shame. Sadness causes the laughter. No one cares about its name. In battles of freezing cold rats around the thrash barrel I am circulating as the sinking cruiser.
All of the fallen angels ate their fill with taste of rain. Homeless Chester cruelly beaten. Grey lice eating moldy brain. Even the God and Satan quit forgot their quarrel. They're both laughing. I am dodging like a loser.
Below the bloody clouds in hell you have to lie to live. Deep sleep came upon all men. The poor ones teach you how to give. Spreading hatred and despair. While the city sleeps I am looking for a safe and quiet corner.
In the filling station bathroom, the slaughtered buffalo screams. “It's not easy to fight nature so take off my black worn jeans” Fire in the Next Club, obscenities on screens I feel fine – just like a goner
I'm dreaming ‘bout escape to the Godthavn Town.
Inside the drunken bar in hell the Tasmanian Devils' drug Is Kaliningrad bourbon drinking on a prayer rug. Gazing into the mirror in the bottom of the mug I am looking for an Aphrodite in foam.
The community hawkers scrounging ‘neath the pickup truck. The milkmaids of Lombardy bringing ‘em some evil luck. Listening to the twang of empty bottles in rucksack I'm wasting on drink my last ticket home.
Around the rainy park in hell the granny ladyboy By reciprocating motion coming to rainbow grandson. “Have ya ever been in heaven or have ya ever done Something lovely sweatheart?” - he asked in this chapter.
The crushed broad-snouted caiman and the northern Chinese boar Cleaning aniline leather shoes behind a liquor store They smelled wench like a raven, started playing with her bone She forgot ‘bout prison ring shortly thereafter
I want to spend my life in the Godthavn Town
Outside the hobo dens in hell, Mamuna hunts old maids Crossdresser crumbles castoreum into weathered incense Strzyga turns to congealed tar, id dyed hair of flamens I sit and listen… passionate lovers sighing
Throughout the asphalt jungle the urinated vagrant sails Mothers on acid funk they're waiting for an allowance Sitting on a corner scraping ash out from my nails I am looking at the high-school love birds crying
Between the turquoise blocks in hell, hundreds of pigeons died I'm fishing in the garbage, feeling rotten but unripe Back pages are my presence – future's Stolypin's necktie Give me booze, if you wanna fulfill me
All good friends have turned their backs and only losers give advice It makes me wanna burn down all the rainbows in the skies Was that mirror reflection of my eyesight in your eyes Or else you really wanna kill me?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
