May I have a moment please, Before the guillotine, To lament on her wet hair Tousled over her left shoulder Wearing a Corfu t-shirt She took as her nightwear I could slip on my own salt sobs Seeking the cold embrace Of the fridge freezer aisle Catwalk into the dog pound, now With my flesh wounds dressed To spring-summer style For whom the belly tolls For who the tap drips dry and the bath water runs cold For whom the belly tolls For who all time ticks by until One joke becomes old There is beauty in the world, I have been told by people I've nothing but trust in Piled up with the cotton buds, Among the toothpicks, Inside the dark of the dustbin Waited outside of "Jersey Boys" For what seemed like a year, A life lived in the vestibule Scout yourself as a one-man team, You're a one club man Denied a testimonial (No knot in the waistband) Persuade me to give up and leave quietly (No reason to grandstand) File me alongside the obscene It's 7: 20 Monday morning I look to the man with No suit for a warning If open to reason/collusion May the way that I go be Regrettable Gruesome In exchange for one thing: "I beg do not take me today" Babbling "Please, let me stay" For whom the belly tolls For who the tap drips dry and the bath water runs cold For whom the belly tolls For who all time ticks by until One joke becomes oldTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
