Miles Kurosky
Dead Language Blues
Based on a book based on his lifeA song I was hired to writeI stole every line and plot deviceFrom his journal that I read at nightThe characters were all stiff robotic whoresBut there was one intriguing roleThe slick missionary with a penchant for stealing andHypnotising the Girls with boys' names and boys with girls' framesSo I set to work with my blueprintAnd the aim of a dead poet's penI filled my prescription and thenA cold war, bible like tyrant was calling my nameHe told me needed someone to detail each momentHis history, the ink started flowingHe first took drugs in '84But he's never been the same as beforeIt's the fault of the suburbs, prog rock and his mumShe still calls him all the timeTo see if he's failing 'cause nothing keeps it's shape when Tempted each day By European ways, speed freaks and straysIt's so hard to say If nature has more than a sick sense of humourLetras de cancionesA cold war bible black tyrant was taking my handHe told me he needed someone to proof read each sentenceA dead language, the ink started flowingHe told me it felt like a whirlwind of heatJust east of Juarez, a border town soiree He knew it before he could breatheThe air was filled with the smell of baby's breathStale sex and baby's breathIt feels like he's failing, 'cause nothing keeps its shapeWhen tempted each day By heartfelt inscriptions and sinking convictionsA cold war bible black tyrant was calling my nameHe told me he needed someone to detail each momentHis history, the ink started flowing
From Letras Mania