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The Silent Parade
Roaming down the strip Of Venice Beach, we trip Over tie-dyed T-shirts Skirts and purses Into a head shop for some papers and cigarettes Chased by a man in a dress A decrepit sun-baked mess Preaching through his plastic Vodka bottle, full-throttle towards the perplexed tourists I must be at the finish line Of the Westward Expansion Queers, freaks, babes, and gypsies take a nosedive Into the unknown Body builders flex Their spray-on copper pecs Soak up the radiation Drive-through nations get their kicks at the solar stations Two-headed puppies race If you've got a buck to waste The helicopters above us Already know us El Chupacabra and Britney have joined us Letras de cancionesI must be at the finish line Of the Westward Expansion Queers, freaks, babes, and gypsies take a nosedive Into the unknown Let's pack our things and go The van's in reverse I'll take the final verse To let you know the days are real once again I hope that makes you feel better Take my hand, fuck the rest of themWe don't need the pain of money and fame 'Cause I know it never makes us feel better I've cut them off Those who scorn and scoff At everything they can't comprehend 'Cause I know it'll make us sleep better I hope that makes you feel better I hope that makes you feel better
From Letras Mania