|
(the clash) |
|
Between cool confusion |
|
And kung fu in the car park |
|
Could the weekend be losing |
|
That reactive spark |
|
Even in the shebeen |
|
Or down in the meat rack |
|
Longtime i feel cold |
|
To send cinderella's shoe back |
|
Along the length of the wire |
|
Party jam on the line |
|
I can't hear a thing |
|
Can't get no number nine |
|
Now we must get in touch |
|
If the night is to burn |
|
Someone out there in luck |
|
Lend me your star for a turn |
|
As heroes fix their hair |
|
Some are saving their breath |
|
Just on the walkways tonight |
|
For a glue bag death |
|
Screens flick in unison |
|
Some gaze at the soul |
|
From the tiers and the heights |
|
Go for the fifteenth floor stroll |
|
It's immediately obvious; |
|
Anybody star-gilt |
|
Would have left this club |
|
Way before it was built |
|
This strikes you so late |
|
As the guy with the broom |
|
Sweeps you and the bottles |
|
Right out of the room |
|
Now i wash in the factory |
|
Confess in the tile house |
|
I don't need to bleed anybody |
|
To strike out |
|
Today my godfather |
|
He sent a note from the jail |
|
Said go get 'em kid |
|
But don't get chained to the rail |
|
Between cool confusion |
|
And kung fu in the car park |
|
Could the weekend be losing |
|
That romantic spark |
|
Even in the shebeen |
|
Or down in the meat rack |
|
Long time i feel cold |
|
To send cinderella's shoe back |
