No one knows my politics like the postman He brings me my radical rag I bet the neighbors are wondering What I've got in this bag They say the city virus broke its borders once again Fellow down the lane packed up and ran
Where the doors all lock at nine Every creak is like cannonfire
There's an old crooked man In an old crooked house He says, "I don't open up on All Saints' Eve. You never know what devil might be waiting there To steal your TV." As he sits to watch a story About another robbery Turns on a light to stave off thieves
Where the doors all lock at nine Every creak is like cannonfire The world is sick I think it's dying I'll watch it go through these dusty blinds
Life in these houses, locked inside There's blood on the door and candlelight Night Close your eyes and wish it by Call up the police to sing their lullabies Play a hero, John Wayne Put guns in our living rooms Gates 'round our names Give us a face to join up and hate Keep Tiny Town pure and safe
But behind these bolts, there's a brewing revolt And it rusts in every one of us
So put a yellow ribbon on your "Exterminator" And head westward, across the tracks I got a dream where we all say "See you later!" And never say "Welcome back!"
I'm looking out the window Down on Citizens Drive Where all the elders are terrified Will that be you and I?
The world is sick I think it might die I'll watch it go through these dusty blindsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
