Winterlovers, winter trees. The beauty of dead industry. The stuff we saved, so fatally. Comes crashing down around me. . Winterlovers, winter trees. Winter longing, falling free.
What the hell is wrong with me?. I'm not who I want to be. I tried spot cream an' I tried it all I'm crawling up the wall!. . What's my name naaaame... naaaame... naaaame....
Jewels drip red and I don't sound proud. Treason is ambition I want dead procession. All we got unholy left-overs of a compromise. Leaving us like butterflies trapped in frost.
There's something wrong somewhere here,. So through unclean streets,. I made my way.. With holes in my shoes and my children asleep at my feet.. I paid my way..
I got the Wattsville blues. I got nothing to lose now, baby. I got the Wattsville blues. I got nothing to lose now, baby. . Time is going on, time is leaving me.
Driving slowly to the bridge. With nothing left that we can give. We smile at this ugly world. It never really suited you. . Old songs leave long shadows.
Here she comes again. With vodka in her veins. Been playing with a spike. She couldn't get it right. . Splendour in silver dress. Velocity possessed. The world was hers again.
Here I am in Amsterdam. I like it here they speak my language. Even though it's not my own. . It's got BBC for comfort zone. And best of all, it's got Marks and Spencer's.
From journalist to video to channel 4 TV. my life is fulfilled so adequately. I love my dealer and I travel the world. from freelance to new dance. and I expect on the world I am.
This one's for the freaks. For you're so beautiful. For all the devotion. Written in your soul. . This one's for the freaks. For the lost and weak. For the butterflies and devotees.
Written By: Bruce/Dunaway/Ezrin. . The telephone is ringing. You got me on the run. I'm driving in my car now. Anticipating fun. I'm driving right up to you, babe.
Say you stand by your man. Tell me something I don't understand. You said you love me and that's a fact. Then you left me, said you felt trapped. . Well some things you can explain away.
For you my dear sister. Holding onto me forever. Disco dancing with the rapists. Your only crime is silence. . Can't work at this anymore. Can't move I want to stay at home.
Born in burial gowns, recessing slowly. You soon wish you couldn't see at all. Tortured in the mind, six voices alone. Futile gestures, emotionless groans.
Not since 1958. When Brazil would make our hearts break. But now that France has arrived. It feels so good to be alive. Lets not forget Gary Speed. He wore his heart upon his sleeve.
When the disappearing begins. The ghosts we kept within. Can break free from inside. And untie our blindfold eyes. . To repel ghosts. To repel ghosts.
Do not listen to a word I say. Just listen to what I can keep silent. The only way to gain approval. Is by exploiting the very thing that cheapens me.
You didn't wake up this morning cause you didn't go to bed.. You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red.. The calendar on your wall is ticking the days off..
Detoxification. Purification. The ravaged corner. Cold and embittered. . Run away - run away - as fast as you can. From anything that needs discipline.
Through early morning fog I see. Visions of the things to be. The pains that are withheld for me. I realise and I can see. . That suicide is painless.