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(the clash) |
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Tonight they're closing up the world |
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N' sweeping smoke from cigarettes |
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And what is that funk multi-national |
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Anthem rocking from a thousand |
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King kong cassette decks |
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Then a shyboy from missouri |
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Boots blown off in a '60s war |
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Riding aluminium crutches |
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Now he knows the welfare kindness n' |
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Agent orange color blindness |
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As we works from door to door |
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The violence in the carpets |
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The mirror of his wife |
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Drives the slum-bum dweller |
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To grind his hunting knife |
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In homesteads of cigar box-radios |
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Hive like bees |
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The body in the ice |
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Box has no date for freeeeeze |
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Chorus |
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In a car jam |
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Selling is what selling sells |
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But only saints of the 7 avenues can sell |
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The hells |
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Fanning the drug afflicted leperizing acne |
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Once inisde the executive |
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He never leaves his home |
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Gorillas drag their victiims |
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Hyenas try to sue |
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Snakes find grass in concrete |
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There is no city zoo by |
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Ventilation units where towers |
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Meet the streets |
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The ragged stand in bags |
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Soaking heat up through their feet |
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This was the donly kindness |
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And it was accidental too |
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Chorus |
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Now shaking single engined planes |
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Traffik-king stereos from cuba |
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Buzzed the holy zealot mass |
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And drowned out missa luba |
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And drowned out missa luba |
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I thought i saw lauren bacall |
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I thought i saw lauren bacall |
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I swear |
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Hey fellas |
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Lauren bacall |
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In a car jam |
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Yeah i don't believe it |
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In a car jam |
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Ah yeah positively absolutely |
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Chorus |
