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Текст песни Joseph Arthur - Creation or a stain

Joseph Arthur - Creation or a stain слова песни




I got a god in my headTells me that I`m crazyGot a god in my headTelling me I`m crazyAn angry little god punching on my skullAnother little godTells me that I`m lazyA useless piece of shit with no love to give at all now And the smallest god up thereThinks that I`m the greatestTells me no one else could be as good as me. I listen to them all, I was a disc jockey to consequencesLittle propagandist selling miseryI build a cocoon I got to get away A shirt made out of wood and glue and crack and then some paint(????)No one see ya down there and no one`s getting inI got a needle, a pack, a satchel, and a quart of country ginI drink and shoot and smoke until the only voice I hearIs the one telling me those other people, don`t let anybody nearNo don`t let anybody near (x4)And now the telephone is ringing, the walls are falling downThe city birds are singing, my soul`s nowhere aroundI have made myself a monster I have damned myself againI have eaten all my children, I have tightened up my skinI`m a walking crucifixion, I`m a fucked-up memoryConsumed in all that`s left, I`m my mother`s miseryI`m sucking on Satan`s tit She`s milking me her pussyflowerI drink until I`m convinced there`s no place left to goYou know there`s no place left to go (x4)So I drink until the pain is dryI know it never isSometimes though, I guess I think that I`m the bestUntil the morning after when I wake up with the guiltOf burning down all the things my sacred hands have builtAnd throwing out all the love you know I never feltYeah, you know I never felt (x4)Let`s make our tortured Romeo`sPersonal help can be uniqueYou bring it on yourselfBurn out when you might peakThe Holy Ghost is exiled from your heart and from your soulIf you control it it`s no fun, and if it`s fun you`ve lost controlYour past is plagiarismyour symbols have dried upYour corruption`s as confusedAs old lovers that you dugLike some hidden toxic fumeYour soul dissipatesIn the ozone of guilty acts with motiveAll the things you hateThere`s bodies dancing, crazedSexual heatCrazy in an orgyThe way starving people eatRegrets weight overwhelms, and tired bodies fallBankrupt from the beatenLet`s split one more eight-ballBlue as beggars, beaten, bleedingTired eyes made of rustAnd we all know when it gets like this there`s no one you can trustNo no there`s no one you can trust(x4)Some say the solution`s locked in the sweat-boxI wouldn`t knowI`ve never been there, I sold my keys to get a rockWe sing along to forgotten AM radio stationsAnd drink expensive wine, toast the friends that we left hangingLike prisoners in conceitWe heard through the cracksI know for sure don`t trust no one who says` they`ve got you backThe windows all explodeOutside the noise pollution boomsEveryone`s now hidden like cockroaches in dark roomsI`ve been brought back from the dead before, so anything can happenObsessed with tragic antics, down and out like Eric ClaptonThese are my wild years, I`m trying to enjoy the painThe euphoria of dyingToxins wrestle in my brainWe`ve all been leaders of corruptionWe`ve all been spiders on the wallWaiting for a hand to smash us or the doom of light to fallIs this guilt of just self-hatredRunnin` wild, uncontainedLeaking from a broken soulIs this creation or a stainIs this creation or a stain...

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