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Like to meet some of these idiotsWho put up the signsLike to burn the fabricOutta their inner linesSheet lightning going down through the pinesWith your shocks out of lineYou're out of your mindCrossing train tracks on switchbacksThrough the lands of the livingPepe's gotta brand new bars for his liquor storeThe Fort Knox of oblivionWhen you're driving through the cityThank God for the seaSomebody's got to draw a line somewhere,And it might as well be Harry BelafonteAnd now ain't the time to hit the stationCrowded with the ghosts of the Be Bop Nation'Tranes of thought and times of tonesSometimes a little wistful cigarette smoke blowingThe President blew so that Bird could liveAnd each along the wire could giveThe sun glass vision and the golden clefAnd the ghetto rod divine which notes are leftLetras de cancionesOh brothers I'm talking I'm talkingHe's got the solo on a wireThis calls for a flock of angelsTo hover over the holy pyreThe President blew so that bird could liveAnd each along the wire could liveThe sun glass vision and the golden clefAnd the ghetto rod divines which notes are left.Golden rain it's the piss of ZeusMixing with the dead yellow Swing insects juiceCaught in the windshield headlights and sluiceAs you battle ahead on TruthSheet lightning going down through the pinesWith your shocks out of line, you're out of your mindWhispering in the plywood motelSome crazy dish didn't turn out too wellSome dreamy argument, some delicious smellSlow blizzards of petals coming at you in a stormThat's the way you make me feel, like warm. From Letras Mania