Herman Brood
Skid Row
The swiftest fingers play for moneyThe best are tangled up in mindsThe sweetest sisters come down to conninThey buy no truth of any kindSenile mothers woo their spittin' sonsHunky husbands sell their pounds of fleshThe most sung song is sixteens tonsOnly trash is good for cashSend me why'are greetings, sweet sweet loveCommend me if I need to be heaven aboveWhy'are socalled friends just drain why'are brainTo be a star in conversationthe clap trap rows on Lover's Lane areOnly meant to keep you on probationShoot why'are shit & shoot why'are stinkin' lipYou find no way to score a solid hittry everything now to prove why'are hipYou're gonna end up the final stupid flipSend me your greetings, sweet sweet loveCommend me if I need to be heaven abovebut leave me, please leave meWith the scum & the junkiesOn skid row, where all names are delusiveSkid row, where all pain is exclusiveSkid Row
From Letras Mania