The men were here to get your Belgian things They'll store them for you in an airplane hangar There's guys in biohazard suits, mud caking on their rubber boots They've come to keep your pretty things from danger
The men came here to get your Belgian things They'll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs I shot a roll of 32 exposures My camera groans beneath the weight it bears
I can see you in my sleep Playing the points for all your worth Walking gingerly across The bruised earth
The men came here to get your Belgian things They waltzed right through the door and went fluorescent Their boots were black and shiny and your treasures gleamed like stars Bones from deep down in the fertile crescent
The arteries are clogging in the mainframe There's too much information in the pipes I saw the mess you left up in the east bedroom A tiger's never gonna change its stripes
I guess, I guess But Jesus, what a mess One way in No way out
The men came here to get your Belgian things While I was only here to see them do it I wish you had a number where you are It's hard with no one here to help me through it
I can see you in my sleep Playing the points for all your worth Walking gingerly across The bruised earthTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
