I can't recall ever feeling this way,
But Hell came to my house, so I'm moving away.
Just another night to be out and down
On the far-off streets of a used-up town;
It's the same two hundred round and round
And it gets to me and it gets me down,
But I don't care now for and hour or two,
Just a little time to spend with you,
And I walk these streets and the trees are limes
And it's almost Brooklyn, almost time...
I don't care any more, and your clothes look too cool,
And I fall through this door, and your clothes look too cool.
And I fall on you like a falling tree,
Coz you kill me and splinter me.
And it's hard to follow, hard to see,
Won't you tell me what you think of me?
I've lost my faith and I'm down and falling.
Wasn't that some angel calling?
I don't know where we go from here,
But I want to go with you, my dear.
And it's almost Brooklyn.
The fuel burning oracle review
Fuelburningoracle[at]-remove-mac.com - New York, smelly side of planet.
13Jul2005 7:55 PM (13 years 342 days ago)
A brilliant song, so sad it's so scarce in the JBC library. Tons of
echo and the constant drum beat birthed from the Butchers eyes
blinded at an ultra vivid scene. Audionically beautiful,
uncomprehendable... right up there with the poor spy. Winner
Winner Chicken Dinner.
Corporal Clegg - Old Europe
9Jan2005 9:25 AM (14 years 162 days ago)
Enjoy the draft, won't you?
sex[at]-remove-yomama.com - Irvington, NJ USA
8Jan2005 12:34 PM (14 years 163 days ago)