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The Fatima Mansions

The White Knuckle Express

  alternative  irish  indie  angry  post-punk
371 3 часа назад

Текст песни The Fatima Mansions - The White Knuckle Express

The Fatima Mansions - The White Knuckle Express слова песни




This truck stop: rancid gravyA man with no hands wavingand the dog `round my leg bumps and grindsIt rains for miles out thereon mud and tar and still airand the fungus-lined gap between stinking townsPork-Eyes got him a brand new handHe`s gonna grasp youHe won`t ask youand he`ll tell you it`s all your faultCHORUS:The cup runneth over, your jaws to blesson the white-knuckle expressShe is [grace?] naked, I cannot see her faceShe slides across meI am wearing a collar and a tieWe`re tuneful, cute and givingSee, that`s how we make our livingIn a hall full of corpses, we`d smile and bounce onSome say it`s aimless bullshitbut they come from big houses and budgetsand, although I don`t look it, I`m getting really fucking oldPork-Eyes, in the presence of a sweet young girl:He`s gonna spill you, it better thrill you,or he`ll tear this place apartPork-Eyes! We`re going up! Feet-first, feet-first!and the legend on that girl`s thigh reads "Love = Hurt = Hate"--CHORUSPork-Eyes, he will stroke your long hair tenderly in all the waterfront barswhere the wine and hollow talk-of-men will muffle things that really, really areand you`ll go back to your room with him on your healthy sandalled feetto come out minutes later, bleeding, torn above, torn underneath...

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