no place for a boy and his friend To go I'll pick some daisies from the flower bed Of the galaxy theater while you clear your head I thought some daisies
The cut rate mime walkin' through the dirty streets Of Paris in the hot, August heat Sun meltin' the fake smile away Just lookin' for a place to stay
Today is a lovely day to run Start up the car with the sun Packin' blankets and dirty sheets A roomful of dust and a broom to sweep up All the troubles
If I lay my head down I will see you in my dream Wearing that polka dot dress and sitting by the stream Leaning in to hear you, you will whisper in my
I can't look at the rocket launch The trophy wives of the astronauts And I won't listen to their words 'Cause I like birds I don't care for walking downtown
Taking a walk down to the mall Smelling piss and beer and gas That could be me in a couple years Suckin' fumes under the highway pass On a rainy day,
I bought some rock star ashes From the back of rolling stone I guess he wouldn't mind it They couldn't sell his soul The tiger in my tank Is going to
Sun comes up on the old neighborhood Spray-painted bricks and dead firewood Well I don't know where I'm gonna be next I don't care where I am gonna be
Little field mice living under the house Never eating much, tough life for a mouse And if you think you're gonna be spared You're wrong Field mice, head
Went down by the old courthouse Stumbling through the streets Had to get out of the house Had to use my feet And you may not think much of me now But
like a heart or maybe a pie When I'll walk myself down sycamore street The sun beats down no shoes on my feet And I stumble on a daisy through concrete A daisy
no place for A boy and his friend To go I'll pick some daisies From the flower bed Of the Galaxy Theater While you clear your head I thought some daisies
ترجمة: ثعابين. الإقحوانات من المجرة.
t no place for A boy and his friend To go I'll pick some daisies From the flower bed Of the Galaxy Theater While you clear your head I thought some daisies
lines Looks like a heart Or maybe a pie When I walk myself Down sycamore street The sun beats down No shoes on my feet And I stumble on A daisy through concrete A daisy
These are the sounds of things that are past...
Little field mice Living under the house Never eating much Tough life for a mouse And if you think you're gonna be spared you're wrong Field mice, head
