Fatima Mansions (The)
The White Knuckle Express
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 faultThe 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 oldLetras de cancionesPork-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"Pork-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
From Letras Mania