A faded trail of a golden age that flickered out into celluloid ashes phantasms fantastic
Outran the avalanche Outran the avalanche Outran the avalanche To the cameras rolling
We beat the drum slowly
The family jewels, the swimming pool yards marked by emerald coffins we heard crimes often and softly a mystery mist, new systems shift things recognized from television channels nostalgia signals, unscrambled.
Outran the avalanche Outran the avalanche Outran the avalanche To the cameras rollingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.