Like to meet some of these idiots Who put up the signs Like to burn the fabric Outta their inner lines Sheet lightning going down through the pines With your shocks out of line You're out of your mind
Crossing traintacks on switchbacks Through the lands of the living Pepe's gotta brand new bars for his liquor store The Fort Knox of oblivion When you're driving through the city Thank God for the sea Somebody's got to draw a line somewhere, And it might as well be Harry Belafonte
And now ain't the time to hit the station Crowded with the ghosts of the Be Bop Nation 'Tranes of thought and times of tones Sometimes a little wistful cigarette smoke blowing The President blew so that Bird could live And each along the wire could give The sunglass vision and the golden clef And the ghetto rod divine which notes are left
Oh brothers I'm talking I'm talking He's got the solo on a wire This calls for a flock of angels To hover over the holy pyre The President blew so that bird could live And each along the wire could live The sunglass vision and the golden clef And the ghetto rod divines which notes are left.
Golden rain it's the piss of Zeus Mixing with the dead yellow Swing insects juice Caught in the windshield headlights and sluice As you battle ahead on Truth Sheet lightning going down through the pines With your shocks out of line--you're out of your mind
Whispering in the plywood motel Some crazy dish didn't turn out too well Some dreamy argument--some delicious smell Slow blizzards of petals coming at you in a storm That's the way you make me feel--like warm.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
