Take a little walk to the edge of town and go across the tracks Where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom, As it shifts and cracks. Where secrets lie in the border fires, in the humming wires. Hey man, you know you're never coming back. Past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks. On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man in a dusty black coat with a red right hand.
He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy. He'll rekindle all the dreams, it took you a lifetime to destroy. He'll reach deep into the hole, heal your shrinking soul, but there won't be a single thing that you can do. He's a god, he's a man, he's a ghost, he's a guru. They're whispering his name through this disappearing land, But hidden in his coat is a red right hand.
You don't have no money? - He'll get you some. You don't have no car? - He'll get you one. You don't have no self-respect, you feel like an insect. Well, don't you worry buddy, 'cause here he comes Through the ghettos and the barrio and the bowery and the slum. A shadow is cast wherever he stands; Stacks of green paper in his red right hand.
You'll see him in your nightmares, you'll see him in your dreams. He'll appear out of nowhere but he ain't what he seems. You'll see him in your head, on the TV screen And hey buddy, I'm warning you to turn it off. He's a ghost, he's a god, he's a man, he's a guru. You're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan Designed and directed by his red right hand.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
