Alba s touto skladbou:
Ro(c)ky mého mládí,
Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street,
What can I do for you today sir?
Stylish trimming of the hair?
Soothing skin message?
Sit sir, sit.
You see sir a man infatued with love.
Her ardent and eager slave.
So fetch the pomade and pumice stone
and lend me a more seductive tone,
a sprinkling perhaps of French cologne
but first I think a shave.
The closest I ever gave.
*whistles
*
In a merry mood today Mr. Todd?
Tis your delight is catching fire
from one man to the next.
Tis true, sir,love can still inspire
the blood to pound,
the hearth leap hider.
What more
What more can man require?
Than love sir.
More than love sir.
What sir?
Women
Ah yes women.
Pretty women.
*bum bum bum bum
*
*whistles
*
Now then my friend.
Now to your purpose.
Patience. Enjoy it.
Revenge can't be taken in haste.
Make haste and in this your work
you'll be commended sir.
My lord!
And who may it be said is your intended sir?
My ward.
Pretty as a rose bud.
Pretty as her mother?
Huh? What was that?
Nothing sir. Nothing.
May we proceed?
Pretty women.
Fascinating...
Sipping coffee...
Dancing...
Pretty women
are a wonder.
Pretty women.
Sitting in the window
or standing on the stair.
Something in them
cheers the air.
Pretty women.
Silouetted...
Stay within you.
Galncing...
Stay forever.
Breathing lightly...
Pretty women.
Pretty women!
Blowing out their candles
or combing our hair
and then even when they leave you and vanish they
somehow can still remain there with you
Even when they leave
they still are there.
They're there.
Ah, pretty women.
At the mirrors,
In their gardens,
Letter-writing,
Flower-picking,
Weather-watching.
How they make a man sing!
Proof of haeven as your're living.
Pretty women!
Sir, pretty women!
Yes, pretty women!
Oh, pretty women!