Marco Se Ha Marchado
we're going to fat city
we're gonna hit town
we're going to fat city...fat city
hard rain washed away
sweet love like a bird of prey
mixed emotions overgrown
psychedelic to the bone
it's a fact that your back's
against the wall
when you show your face
but never get yourself caught
between a rock and a hard place
pump me up let me down
beef and blood underground
snap the whip crack the code
paranoia overload
you got to get yourself a card
with an i.d.
for the human race
but never get yourself caught
bet
Here Comes That Feeling
(Difford/Tilbrook)
Up in the morning
Politely yawning
There's frost on the roof of the car
First cigarette puffs
Gold links in my cuffs
Egg on the shirt of my heart
Fingerprints in the dust with my name
Squint my eyes to see from my fame
Spot the words that fall from my lines
The deafness hides the light from the blind
Stop starting journey
The road returns me
Back to the world in the evening
The stage rehearsals
Voice on the circles
Blah blah my way to the celing
I can't see the walls from the chairs
Are there people sitting out there
Feed me with a frown or a laugh
Featureless the faces that ask
Tonight I'm cracking
I'm murder acting
Footlit the visual of my lines
I'll smoke and drink it
I'll eat and think it
Miserable the murder plot unwinds