They came marching down the street in robes In the spirit of the Spanish inquisition Guitars and trombones Mechanical monkeys make good musicians Street urchins, the smugglers and dingos Dead languages and living man's lingos Put the relics of a saint in a glass box And march him around the block
Hangin' on the words of a mad man Islands in the abyss No use for the poet When the hopeless seek no bliss
Mason jars of petroleum You know those kids don't play And should you ever get a hold of them I'll tell you exactly what they'll say: "Time we told you son about the family curse" And when they open up the diary to gain an explanation They find only terminal verse
Hangin' on the words of a mad man Islands in the abyss No use for the poet When the hopeless seek no bliss
X-ray visions, eye in the sky And the naked being led by the blind So bottoms up now, socrates Hemloc straight up goes down easy
Hangin' on the words of a mad man Islands in the abyss No use for the poet When the hopeless seek no bliss
X-ray visions, eye in the sky The naked being led by the blind So bottoms up now, socrates Hemlock tastes like ripple wine
X-ray visions, eye in the sky The naked being led by the blind So bottoms up now, socrates Hemloc straight up goes down easyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
