Nothing touches me, man These walls are three feet thick Wouldn't take one of them Little drills to get through it I try to make her listen When I turn
I would rather not go back to the old house I would rather not go back to the old house There's too many bad memories Too many memories there, there,
In a river, the color of lead Immerse a baby's head Wrap her up in the news of the world Dump her on a doorstep, girl This night has opened my eyes And
All the streets are crammed with things Eager to be held I know what hands are for And I'd like to help myself You ask me the time But I sense something
Every day you must say So, how do I feel about my life? Anything is hard to find When you will not open your eyes When will you accept yourself ? I am
Run, run, run Run, run, run Run, run, run Run, run, run Well baby, better take my advice A black cat crossed your path twice The moon came out next to
me? Put on the teley? To the BBC! To the BBC, Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! BBC 1! BBC 2! BBC 3! BBC 4! BBC 5! BBC 6! BBC 7! BBC heaven! [repeat 2 more times] BBC
When you move in right up close to me That's when I get the shakes all over me Quivers down my backbone I got the shakes in the knee bone Quivers in
You think we look pretty good together You think my shoes are made of leather But I'm a substitute for another guy I look pretty tall but my heels are
He was in his room, half awake, half asleep The walls of the room seem to alter angles Elongating and shrinking alternately Then twisting around completely
(feldman/goldstein/gottehrer) Get up in the morning take the covers from my bed There's sunlight in my eyes playing tricks with my head I work like a
Sprawled face down on this swiss stained iron bed In a dismal cheap hotel With my one arm injured And the sweat stained billowous murk From my last cold
Who are you? My card, pretty lady 'Devil May Care' music production, Beelzebub, president I like your style, too bad you're not a singer Oh, but I am,
You fear the lesson And fear to walk And fear to pass on Your fear to talk The teacher was feared Your parents too Then you became The fear of you, fear
I'm the boss of the BBC I'm the monkey at the top of the media tree Your version of the riots in Cape Town Comes second-hand from me Chewing and spewing
Guess your dreams always end They don't rise up, just descend But I don't care anymore I've lost the will to want more I'm not afraid, not at all I watch
When you're looking at life In a strange new room Maybe drowning soon Is this the start of it all? Turn on your TV Turn down your pulse Turn away from
I'm so glad, I'm so glad I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad I'm so glad, I'm so glad I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad Don't know what to do Don't know what to