There's this lady around my way. Who sees me like every other day. Who swears and screams a name. She says "Randy, where you been?". I remember you were my best friend.
Hey ya hey hey, hey ya hey hey. Hey ya hey hey, hey ya hey hey. Hey ya hey hey, hey ya hey hey. Hey ya hey hey, hey ya hey hey. . She said everything youve learned, yeah youve been told.
With detailed precision nothing omitted/made the incision cut to what ahed/. none of the trends/none of the friends of the packiaging crew/who seels of.
This is meaningless.. A life into a metaphor seems pressed in one direction,. one dimension of conflicting forms.. Start to abstract from this fluctuation static forms,.
If you want me to listen whisper. If you want me to run just walk. Wrap your name in lace and leather. I can hear you, you don't need to talk. . Let us make thousand mistakes.
Ladies, ladies, listen to me. . Mr. Heseltine you drove into our town. The northern rain always drizzling down. Shoppers at the window stopped to look.
Can't hear you 'cause your mouth's full of shit. Well I'm really back to basics right beside a bar. Choke the double trouble big one to the joker with the card.
Ready or not my words grow loud. Can you hear? Can you tell?. I'm making sound. Ready or not my heart starts to pound. Can you hear? Can you tell?. I'm making sound.
(Chorus). Can't hear you 'cause your mouth's full of shit. Can't hear you 'cause your mouth's full of shit. Do something about it. (Repeat chorus). Well I'm really back to basics right beside a bar.
There's pedal bikes and motor bikes. And now they're riding mountain bikes. Up and down and out of town. Over, under, through, around. I ride my little bicycle, I ride it to the top.
Can't hear 'cos your mouth's full of shit. Do something about it. Well I'm really back to basics right beside a bar. Choke the double trouble big one to joker with the card.
Oh, Charleston Heston. Your father's favorite son. Walks in whistling Casey Jones. Moses with a gun. . Oh, Charleston Heston. Your father's favorite son.
Children in school forced to the desk. Finger the atlas and study the text. Lies and opinion presented as fact. Taught to accept and never to ask. . Those smiling workers in Ladybird books.
Act one, the smell of green leather, French polish, quite pristine, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle, not a crease, the silverware all clean. Exquisite chaussures grace marble floors, be upstanding, for men of yore. But wait, who's this, sticky under the collar in Elsinore? Enter silent comedy geek with dynamite down his pants. Nervous, shuffling on his feet, leading a merry song and dance. A back seat driver of good moral fibre, holding up the light. He's made his own bed, now he's got to lie in it. Ha ha! Serves him right..
Talk about money. Talk about oppression. Investing in death. And the earth's destruction. Killing the earth. Bit by bit. Financing war. To make more profit.
Welcome to my open house. Please ignore the mess around. I've been meaning to clean it up for quite sometime. Built on rock, I'm just run down, a fixer upper.
The saturday afternoon tradition. Three falls and one submission. Boston crab and half-nelson. Bouncing around for television. Learn the moves and collect your pay.
Michaelangelo was a genius. Artist, architect, physician. The darling of the florentine scene. Inventor, scientist, mathematician. But less well-known are his regular stints.
England's goalkeeper since gordon banks. Consistent, reliable, a safe pair of hands. But despite all his saves and all his acrobatics. I can't help recalling something more dramatic.