The shopkeepers round here seem to tremble and trade in fear / There’s a lock-out on self-esteem / discontentment in every dream / Now what do we have left to show from a winter that’s been and gone? / Are we still bracing ourselves for a sermon that wouldn’t come?
I cut my finger once again / I drank and drank till I was full but the bleeding, it wouldn’t end / It soaked my shirt, and stained my skin / I’d cauterise the wound, but I just can’t decide / Where do I begin?
The kids are back in school and the screws are all working to rule / It’s a crushing change of circumstance from a new set of arrogant fools / Some refuse to punch the clock, they drowned their work ethic out at the Jackson dock / Harking back to a ‘job for life’ as the shopkeepers shiver in strife.
I bit my tongue off in my sleep / Drowning in a crimson cauldron the taste of metal and rotten meat / Through the incoherent gargling you swore you heard me gasp and sing / Where do I begin?
The shopkeepers round here seem to tremble and trade in fear.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
