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KARAOKE TEXTY >>
KARAOKE TEXTY m >>
Morrissey >>
Alba s touto skladbou:
Ringleader Of The Tormentors,
Oh a working-class face glares back
At me from the glass and lurches
"Oh forgive me, on the streets I ran
Turned sickness into popular song"
Streets of wet-black holes
On roads you can
never know
You never have
them but they
always have you
Till the day that
you croak
It's no joke
Oh a working-class
face glares back
At me from the glass
and lurches
"Oh forgive me on the
streets I ran
Turned sickness into
unpopular song"
And all these streets
can do
Is claim to know the
real you
And warn: "if you don't leave,
you will kill or be killed"
Which isn't very nice
Here, everybody's friendly
But nobody's friends
Oh dear God, when will I be where I should be?
And when the palmist said:
"One Thursday
you will be dead"
I said: "No, not me,
this cannot be
Dear God, take him,
take them, take anyone
The stillborn
The newborn
The infirm
Take anyone
Take people from
Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania
Just spare me!"
