Wow, I´m sick of doubt.
Livin´ in light of certain South, cruel bindings.
The servants have the power,
dog-men and their mean women,
pulling poor blunkets over our sailors.
I´m sick of dour faces, staring at me from T.V. tower.
I want roses in my garden bower, dig?
Royal babies, rubbies, must now replace aborted
strangers in the mud.
These mutants, blood meal for the plant that´s plowed.
They´re waiting to take us into the severed garden.
Do you know how pale and want on thrillful comes death on a strange hour, unannounced, unplaned for?
Like a scaring over friendly guest you´ve brought to bed.
Death makes angels of us all, and gives us wings where we had shoulders, smooth as raven´s claws.
No more money, no more fancy dress,
this other kingdom seems by far the best,
until it´s other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetible law.
I will not go.
Prefer A Feats Of Friends to the Giant family.
🏆 Pozri si TOP 100 najhranejších piesní
→
💬 Komentáre
Pridať komentár
https://www.topky.sk/cl/100314/3046597/MEGA-ULOVOK-francuzskej-policie--Nasli-bustu-z-hrobu-slavneho-spevaka----UKRADLI-JU-pred-37-rokmi-
https://www.ireport.cz/clanky/news/zemrel-filmovy-jim-morrison-val-kilmer-podlehl-zapalu-plic
https://www.ireport.cz/clanky/news/nafingoval-jim-morrison-vlastni-smrt-novy-dokument-naznacuje-ze-by-frontman-the-doors-mohl-stale-zit
https://www.evropa2.cz/clanky/lifestyle/nejvetsi-skandalni-koncerty-vsech-dob-ktere-show-vstoupily-do-dejin-hudby
→
→
Buďte prvý kto napíše komentár! 🎵