You look real good in your blue jeans. And a pink sweater. But in a cocktail dress I guess. You look even better. I got your photographs. And the memories lined up on the table.
Once I dreamt, I was falling like a feather from a tree. The welcoming committee cheered, must have been a sight to see. Right there in the middle of a sweaty night in Rome.
I'm kicking down the road. I got a top hat on. With my head in overload. I heard a radio song. . There was something in the air. I think I know it well.
You walk into the room and the temperature falls. The mood disappears. Chased away by the gathering storm that is here. I look up painted sky full of memories.
Quiet now. Still of night. Inside fire burnin' bright. . Right moment. Layin' down. Oh, still no sound. . It's all automatic. No thought. Automatic. .
I will find a way to move on. Discontent had its day the pleasure's gone. If you ask me to describe what I could want with all I've got. I'd say good days and thank you's instead of all these question marks.
My bullet is happiness on your face. You can tell a brother, times up anyway. Don't touch my diamond, 'cause. My girl is mine!. . My gun, my trigger, my rules, obey.
Quersymmetrisch gleicht das weie Rauschen. einem dichten Schneegestber,. dessen grauweie Flocken. das Hliche bedecken. und verndern.. Gemeinsam brechen grau und wei einstmals lineale Linien.
Quersymmetrisch gleicht das weie Rauschen. einem dichten Schneegestber,. dessen grauweie Flocken. das Hliche bedecken. und verndern.. Gemeinsam brechen grau und wei einstmals lineale Linien.
Die Dunkelheit findet nur abseits des Lichtes statt. erst dann konzentrieren wir uns auf jedes Geräusch. und sei es auch nur ein Laut, der gar nicht existiert..
Fills them inside to the brim. Crawls around inside their skin. You're not like them they point and stare. You're not like them you can't be there. (chorus) Come on down to our little town.
Feeling the wind. Flowing through the leaves. Flowing through what's left. Or us all. . Uneasy thoughts fills me. As I look back on those days. the days of glory and fame.
As the mourning cries of pain bellows. And the seeds rot and die. The nightmare of old is born. Into a world of song and joy. . In the wind I cry. In the cold I die.
The lights go out and then I'm fallin again. I'm alone in the middle when I needed a friend. As I lose when I'm winning 'cause it still never ends. All alone.
The past few years. Have been so trying. Between the drugs and. The drinking and the touring. In my eyes I'm stabilized. And all I need is you. Someone who understands.
I hate to break it to you. But this convenience ain't convenient anymore. Now I realize I had different eyes. Back when I thought this was a good thing.
When our masterpiece is complete. And the coroner's report is back in. It will read, "The cause of death: art". . Art. It will read, "The cause of death: art".
Let me tell you what it's all about. Walking round with your talent hanging out. I'm feeling ragged as a scrubber's tights. Must have had too much to paint.
Demented New York athletes staggering round the block. Deformed Chicanos pour in Chicago's rolling stock. Digital bathrooms drilling for furs. Surgical stockings marked His and Hers.
A lost weekend, no beginning, no end. Were you walking, was I running. Is it here, or is it coming soon. Thanks a lot. Oh, I wish you well. Friends or lovers, who can tell.