|
Back packs going for the green, pirates of tinsel town |
|
Knock knock, banging on the doors, good deals are hard to find |
|
A black suit opens the door, a shining corporate star |
|
No hit he mumbles as he hears big chords from the guitar |
|
Going from low to a higher ground |
|
From a hard knock life into pixie dust |
|
Ready set go and we're taking off |
|
Like a skyrockt to oblivionm, and he said |
|
I can't hear a single, this song in 7/8 |
|
It's dead has passed its sell by date |
|
There's no spark no jingle, nor hooks nor four on the floor |
|
Kick out the Harvard preppy dudes, let in Hollywood |
|
No deal, mission incomplete |
|
If you only could take the cotton from your ears |
|
And put in your mouth |
|
I can't hear a single, this song in 7/8 |
|
It's dead has passed its sell by date |
|
There's no spark no jingle, nor hooks nor four on the floor |
|
Kick out the Harvard preppy dudes, let in Hollywood |
|
Footsteps echo in the night |
|
The road of broken dreams |
|
Footprints from a brighter day |
|
Slowly fades away |
