It's the final throw. The final blow. Break or bust. We must make our thrust. Lose or win. We can't give in. Right or wrong. We must go on. . There's no time for doubt.
We've seen it before. The high flying act. Is it manic delusion. Or a statement of fact. That hot fevered brow. Them bright shining eyes. The hand on the heart.
It was all over in the blink of an eye. Thousands of people walking by. A big black bird swooped out of the sky. Nobody knew the reason why. . It was all over in a few seconds flat.
The Devil came from Kansas.. Where he went to I can't say. Though I teach I'm not a preacher,. And I aim to stay that way. There's a monkey riding on my back,.
I was standing on the mountain top staring at the sun. I was trying to act the hero's part not fooling anyone. I was living for the moment but the moment never came.
I'll bathe my eyes in a river of salt. I'll grow myself right up to the sky. I'll sing in the forest, tear down the trees. I'll foul all the fountains and trample the leaves.
Strangers in space. passing through time. Travellers in haste. Partners in crime. Trace of a feeling. Trace of regret. Hard to remember. Hard to forget.
T.V. Ceasar Mighty Mouse. Holds his court in every house. Spied in every crack and corner. Watch you eat your TV dinner. Creeping in through eyes and ears.
Skeptic at the feast in ashes. Huntsmen at the voyeurs' ball. Funeral parlour guests invited. Mourning poorly worn by all. . Old and mouldy words of passion.
In the centre of the storm. something magic being born. When the world is torn apart. by the beating of a heart. Like a dam about to burst. Like a drunkard's crazy thirst.
While standing at the junction on 42nd Street. I idly kick a pebble lying near my feet. I hear a weird noise, take a look up and down. The cause of the commotion is right there on the ground.
While standing at the junction on 42nd Street. I idly kick a pebble lying near my feet. I hear a weird noise, take a look up and down. The cause of the commotion is right there on the ground.
While standing at the junction on 42nd Street. I idly kick a pebble lying near my feet. I hear a weird noise, take a look up and down. The cause of the commotion is right there on the ground.
Your convent-cloistered, cluttered mind. [calls] out for me but I'm behind. You cannot see into your room. Whose perfumed depths sing songs of doom. .
Skip softly, my moonbeams, avoid being seen. Pretend that perhaps you are part of a dream. Which (seen by some other such person as me). Would only glow smiling and nod and agree.
You were the player. And you played it cool. I was the stranger. And I played the fool. You were the teacher. And you were the best. I was the seeker.
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Simple Sister. Got Whooping Cough. Have to burn her toys. Take her treats. Eat her sweets. Scare off all the boys. . Simple Sister. Got Whooping Cough.
My Prussian-blue electric clock's. Alarm bell rings, it will not stop. And I can see no end in sight. And search in vain by candlelight. For some long road that goes nowhere.
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