That's it, turn the page on the day, walk away. 'Cause they're sensing what I say I'm 45th generation Roman. But I don't know 'em or care when I'm spitting.
Smell of good earthy herbs makes my nerves shudder. But where were you that cold December. Cos we were in the grasshopper spending guilders. Central station, charged up like Scarface.
Hello, hello, my name's Terry and I'm a law-abider. There's nothin' I like more than gettin' fired up on beer. And when the weekend's here. I exercise my right to get paralytic and fight.