---

He’s a hollow man, in a dead land
He’s a fool with men for change
He’s a hot shot, in his high rise
A glass of wine and a lady by his side

The city is drunk on the money he’s burnt
Yet he still prays these whispered words
Of ‘Things are good cause i’m not dead yet’

Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh

He’s a warrior, and a fighter
He’s a fool with a twisted smile
In his blood stream, runs the story
Of a maestro cut loose in the hands of misuse

The city is drunk on the money he’s burnt
Yet he still prays these whispered words
Of ‘Things are good cause i’m not dead yet’

Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Look at you Maestro,
all alone and growing old,
Look at your poor soul,
All alone in your city of gold

All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see he waved away my words
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see, what a sight to see
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see he waved away my words
In search of something,
What a sight to see
He waved away my words,
In search of something more

Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh
Look at you Maestro,
all alone and growing old,
Look at your poor soul,
All alone in your city of gold
Look at you Maestro
Look at your poor soul

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.